


The Value of Devotion

by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead



Series: Invaluable [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/F, M/M, now featuring politics and salt, oh and emotional and physical pain, soon to be featuring Suna Rintarou and Miya Osamu, the vampire au continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:24:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 56,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8310133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_My_Characters_Are_Dead/pseuds/All_My_Characters_Are_Dead
Summary: Second Prince Sakusa has returned to the Royal Court, but even as he returns to his duties governing the vampires, things are changing. With the rising number of contracted vampires, tensions between Sakusa and Terushima rising, First Princess Shimizu trying to maintain the balance of power while keeping everyone safe, and Konoha and the other demons keeping an enormous secret, the vampires are on the verge of civil war.





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the next installment of Invaluable! Hopefully there will be less death in this part, but there will be all of that lovely angst that keeps you coming back for more!

Konoha trailed behind his master, silent and watchful as she moved through the halls of the vampires’ royal palace. His master didn’t even pause as she slipped into a side hallway, and Konoha followed her a moment later. When he turned the corner, however, he found his master in the arms of the vampires’ First Princess. Konoha sighed. 

“Hello, Akinori,” Shimizu greeted him as she pulled his master closer to her. “I’ll just take care of Yui until the royal audience later, all right?” 

“I’m sure you will, Your Highness,” Konoha muttered, bowing shortly. “I’ll retrieve her later, then.” His master, the well-known demon Michimiya Yui, grinned and waved at him. 

“Thank you, Aki. Go have some fun,” Michimiya urged. Konoha shook his head and returned to the hallway, headed for the courtyard gardens. He didn’t really have anything to do at the moment, and all of his friends were away from the palace. He didn’t have many palace residents he trusted - some of the nobles straight up made his skin crawl - but there were a few. 

Normally, he would seek one of them out, but… Yahaba and Oikawa hadn’t been at the palace in years, banished to the border. Semi and Miya had accompanied their princes away from the palace, and Yaku and his seekers had gone after Miya’s prince, Terushima. Konoha debated trying to find and befriend the companions of the Fourth and Fifth Princesses, but he didn’t know enough about them to know if he could trust them yet. Konoha stepped out into the courtyards and surveyed the garden before him. Oh, there was one of those nobles he didn’t like. Maybe he should go pester them for a bit…

Konoha was about to call out to the noble, just to see if he’d react to being addressed by a demon, when a familiar sensation tingled at the back of his mind: magic. Blood magic. 

Yahaba.

Konoha shed his human disguise - the undignified squawk from the noble in the garden made his newly acquired beaklike snout twist and show his rows of fangs menacingly as he laughed - and flowed easily into his true demonic form. His spiked wings sprouted from the inky blackness of his vaguely humanoid form, and he flexed the talons that replaced his hands before launching himself into the air. 

He soared over the palace walls, circled once, pinpointing the source of the magic, then shot in the direction of the border. As he got closer, the feel of the magic became more distinct. Yes, yes, that  _ was _ Yahaba, after years of being too far for Konoha to sense him!

“Shigeru!” Konoha shrieked as he spotted the mage on the ground and dove toward him. Konoha overshot Yahaba’s position slightly, landing behind him, in the middle of the group he was traveling with. There was a strangled scream from one of them - Konoha didn’t recognize him, but he felt human, so Konoha ignored him for the moment - as Yahaba turned to see the winged demon crouching within arm’s reach. 

“Akinori?” Yahaba gasped. “What are you-” Konoha cut him off by throwing himself at the blood mage, cackling as he knocked him to the ground. Konoha scraped his talons over Yahaba’s sides, and the mage shrieked with laughter. “Fuck you, Aki! Get off!” Yahaba laughed, writhing and retaliating with a well-placed jab to Konoha’s stomach, making the demon squeak and fall off of him. Konoha made a disgruntled hiss of complaint as he sat up. 

“No fair,” he whined, his true form’s beak and jagged teeth making his voice whistle more than usual. 

“That was totally fair. You dropped out of the sky, so anything allowed!” Yahaba countered. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I sensed your magic!” Konoha exclaimed, sliding back to his human form and pouncing on Yahaba again, trying to pin him down. Yahaba rolled sideways to avoid him and scrambled to his feet before darting behind one of the vampires. Konoha stood and blinked, recognizing the vampire Yahaba was using as a shield. “Toooooooooruuuuuu!” Konoha sang, throwing himself at the negotiator. Oikawa grinned and managed to brace himself, catching the demon and holding him up when he went limp in disappointment. “When did you learn how to not fall over when I jump at you?” Konoha complained. 

“I learned some self-defense while I was away,” Oikawa explained, hefting the demon to his feet. Konoha was tempted to stay limp and fall on the vampire again, but the glare he realized he was getting from one of the humans made him reconsider. 

“Who’s the grumpy cactus?” Konoha asked, eyeing the spiky-haired, scowling human warily. Then realization washed over him. “Wait, don’t tell me. That’s the famous Iwaizumi, right?” The human’s eyes widened, and Oikawa nodded. “Ooh, Tooru, he’s good-looking for a human! Hey, Zumi-chan, are you taking proper care of Tooru?”

“Zumi-  _ what _ ?” Iwaizumi spluttered, his scowl vanishing as he gaped at the demon.

“Yes, this one is a good one, Tooru. He’ll be a pleasure to mess with,” Konoha announced. Before either of them could reply, he spotted Miya and skipped over to him. Konoha pulled Miya into a hug and murmured in his ear, “How’re you holding up?” 

“Yahaba’s got a human lover,” Miya whispered as he returned the embrace. “So...ask me again in a few years.” Konoha tutted, then glared over Miya’s shoulder at Terushima, who made a confused noise. “Aki, don’t pick fights with Yuuji.” 

“Not even a  _ little _ fight?” Konoha protested. 

“No,” Miya insisted. Konoha sighed and relented. 

“Fine,” he agreed, straightening and looking around. His attention caught on Yaku and the seekers and he opened his mouth to greet them, only to fall silent as his gaze slipped past them and found a  _ human _ \- a no-good, untrustworthy  _ human _ \- in the spot beside Sakusa where Semi belonged. Konoha whirled, scanning the group. No sign of Semi. 

“Akinori,” Oikawa began, moving forward even as Konoha’s glare snapped back around and landed on Sakusa. “Don’t, okay? We’ll explain later.” 

“The prince here will explain  _ now _ ,” Konoha hissed, stalking toward the prince. “Where is Eita?” 

“Aki,” Yaku warned, grabbing Konoha’s wrist as he passed the Palace Commander. Konoha paused, waiting to see what the short vampire would say. “Remember that while we’re friends, and since you’re a demon I can’t order you to leave it alone, if you touch Sakusa I’ll have to stop you.” Konoha scowled and nodded. 

“I know.” Yaku released his wrist, and Konoha stormed up to Sakusa. “Where is Eita?” he repeated. “And why do you have some filthy  _ human _ in his place?” Konoha fully expected a dismissive response - he and Sakusa had never been on good terms, even though Konoha was friends with most of Sakusa’s inner circle; after his experience with Kuroo, Konoha just couldn’t bring himself to be pleasant to the prince who’d ordered the whole ordeal - but instead, a shadow flickered across Sakusa’s expression. 

“Eita’s dead,” Sakusa said, so quietly that Konoha almost didn’t hear it. “I couldn’t protect him, and-” That was all Konoha needed to hear. He didn’t want to know what excuses the prince would make, especially when he had clearly already replaced Semi. 

“I’ll go let the palace know you’re almost back,” Konoha announced. Yahaba started toward him, expression stricken. “And I’ll let them know you brought humans who’ll be needing accommodations. Because apparently you princes haven’t ruined enough people’s lives,” he added bitterly. 

“Aki, that’s not-” Oikawa protested.

“Not what? Not right? Not fair to the precious royals?” Konoha snapped. “Every single person I’ve trusted in this damned realm has had their life ruined by vampire royalty in one way or another. Especially you guys,” he added, glancing around the group. “So excuse me if I’m not thrilled to find out the  _ glorious  _ Second Prince got Eita killed and dragged more people into his mess.” Konoha shed his human form once more, then surged into the sky without waiting for a reply. 


	2. Surprises

“The daily audience has already started,” Yaku murmured as their group approached the palace. “Shibayama, go slip in the back. I expect a full report afterwards. Sakunami, I want reports from the captains of each watch on my desk by sundown,” he ordered. The two seekers bowed, then darted off in different directions. “You’re going to the audience, right?” he added, glancing at the two princes. 

“Of course,” Sakusa replied. Terushima nodded absently, his gaze fixed on Miya, who was talking to Shirabu off to the side. “Wakatoshi, you’re with me. You remember what we talked about on the way here?” Ushijima nodded and shifted closer to Sakusa’s right shoulder. 

“Kentarou and I will sit this one out. I don’t want to overwhelm the nobles with my presence,” Yahaba said.

“No. I want you and Oikawa with me. Kyoutani, Shirabu, and Iwaizumi can wait outside the audience hall,” Sakusa countered. Yahaba and Oikawa opened their mouths to protest. 

“I’ll take care of them,” Miya volunteered. “I can show them to a safe location - your rooms, or Yaku’s office, maybe, then slip in and take my place beside Yuuji. It’ll throw the nobles off and make them think I’ve been up to something.” He glanced at Terushima for approval and got a frown in response. 

“Issei and I can keep an eye on them,” Hanamaki piped up. Oikawa seemed a little less disgruntled, but still not happy.  

“Miya, with Semi gone, nobles are going to assume the worst and potentially cause trouble if you’re not at Prince Terushima’s side,” Yaku added pointedly. Miya ducked his head in acknowledgement, and Terushima’s frown vanished. 

“Come on, then, Atsumu!” Terushima urged. “Let’s go!” He took Miya’s hand, and Miya seemed to abruptly focus on Terushima, his attention zeroing in on the prince as he let himself be dragged toward the palace gates. Shirabu watched the two leave, then returned his own attention to the others around him. Apparently Oikawa and Iwaizumi weren’t pleased about being separated, since they were both frowning at Sakusa’s back as the prince talked to Yaku. As soon as Sakusa turned toward them, though, Oikawa’s expression was his usual politely even one, and he and Yahaba trailed after Sakusa and Ushijima without any outright objections. 

“Come on, you three. We’ll show you all the best places to duck into a secluded spot for a few seconds alone,” Matsukawa smirked. Kyoutani and Iwaizumi had matching scowls as they watched their lovers walk away from them, which they turned on Hanamaki and Matsukawa a moment later.

“Good luck with that,” Yaku muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be inspecting the palace, so make sure I don’t catch you five anywhere you’re not supposed to be, okay?”

“Does that mean we can’t set up surprises for-”

“If you rig Kai’s rooms with booby traps again I’m not stopping him from killing you this time,” Yaku interrupted. 

“He’d have to catch us first,” Hanamaki pointed out. Yaku mumbled something about being glad the idiot wasn’t his soldier anymore, then stalked off. Shirabu shook his head, and followed the group as Hanamaki and Matsukawa led them toward the palace. 

“You’re one of Sakusa’s new human toys,” a voice Shirabu vaguely remembered murmured in his ear. Shirabu frowned and turned, only to catch a glimpse of inky blackness sliding out of his peripheral. “You were chatting with Atsumu pretty animatedly. You’re not going to get him in trouble, are you?” Shirabu whirled away from the direction the voice was coming from, and found himself face to face with the terrifying winged creature that had nearly flattened Yahaba before. So that was why the voice was familiar. “Ooh, you’re a clever, twitchy little bunny, aren’t you?” the creature teased. 

“Konoha, leave the kid alone,” Hanamaki called. Shirabu’s frown deepened as he studied the creature - the demon? - as it resolved itself into a humanlike form. 

“Aw, Makki. Come on, I just wanted to know what he and Atsumu were up to,” Konoha protested. 

“Don’t you have a demon princess to be protecting?” Matsukawa muttered. 

“I already picked her up from the audience and took her to her rooms. She’s safe enough there, since Bokuto and Akaashi came with Kuroo to the palace. They’re catching up with her now.”

“Kuroo’s here? No wonder you’re way out here,” Hanamaki chuckled. “You still haven’t let that go, have you?”

“That asshole isn’t just at war with his hair, he’s at war with me personally,” Konoha grumbled.

“You know he was under orders that time, right?” Matsukawa frowned. 

“I can still hold a grudge,” Konoha replied. “Anyway, Tooru will be suffering just as much as I am since Bokuto and Akaashi are around.” He turned back to Shirabu and threw an arm around the human’s shoulders. “In the meantime, I want to see if the clever little bunny here is a threat to Miya or not.” 

“Why would I be a threat to him?” Shirabu snapped, pushing Konoha’s arm away. “He was just giving me a couple last-minute tips on not offending someone so I don’t get myself killed.”

“You’re a threat to him because he’s the one who’ll suffer if his prince gets jealous,” Konoha replied. 

“If Miya teaching me about court manners - which honestly Kyoutani needs help with  _ way _ more than I do - is the excuse Terushima uses to hurt Miya, then he needs to take it up with Yaku and Sakusa, since they’re the ones who got him to do it,” Shirabu sniffed. Konoha blinked, then nodded thoughtfully. 

“Interesting. What’s your name, kid?” Konoha asked. 

“Shirabu Kenjirou,” the human answered, tilting his head. “Why, do you suddenly care about filthy humans?” Konoha frowned, then remembered what he’d said to Sakusa about the human in Semi’s place. 

“Well, your tall, serious friend is in the place Eita belongs, so he’s a filthy human. But you seem all right,” Konoha replied. “I’m a demon, so I take things on a case by case basis. Like your scowling guard dog friend over there; Shigeru likes him, so Pup-chan is probably okay in my book. And Zumi-chan looked like he wanted to fight Sakusa when he told Tooru to go to the audience with him, so he’s probably fine, too. Now, Mattsun on the other hand, he’s annoying, so-”

“Konoha, you bastard, what are you telling Shirabu?” Matsukawa shouted. Konoha ignored him - the quickest way to irritate Matsukawa and Hanamaki both, besides flirting with one of them in the other’s presence, he knew - and flung his arm around Shirabu again. 

“Anyway, Bu-chan, on a serious note,” Konoha continued. 

“How can you be serious and call me  _ that _ at the same time?” Shirabu muttered. 

“Bu-chan, remember your manners,” Konoha chidded lightly. His voice dropped, and Shirabu tensed as he added, “I’m being serious now. If you see anything that looks like Terushima might be mad at Atsumu when he’s around you, back off, and let Shigeru or Tooru know, okay? Terushima’s changed a lot since Shigeru left him, and I don’t want to see Atsumu hurt, because I might have to do something drastic.” Shirabu wondered briefly what exactly would qualify as  _ drastic _ to a literal demon, then decided he really didn’t want to know.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Shirabu said, because that seemed to be what Konoha wanted. 

“Good. Have fun on your palace tour with the terrible twosome,” Konoha chirped, suddenly cheerful again as he released Shirabu. 

“Come on, before he decides to latch onto Kyoutani or Iwaizumi next,” Hanamaki said. 

“But they both look like such  _ nice _ ,  _ strong _ people to latch onto,” Konoha cooed. Kyoutani’s eyes widened, and he muttered something that sounded like ‘hell no’ as be moved closer to Hanamaki and Matsukawa. 

“You’re not my type, so please don’t,” Iwaizumi said flatly. 

“Your type is obnoxiously pretty, cuddly vampires, right?” Konoha snickered. Iwaizumi shrugged and didn’t protest.

“See you later, Konoha,” Hanamaki broke in firmly. Konoha laughed and waved as the group moved away. He waited until they were all the way inside the palace before he dropped his hand and tilted his head to the side. 

“Ruki, what are you doing this close to the palace?” Konoha asked conversationally. A winged demon with copper streaks on its wings dropped out of the sky and landed beside Konoha. 

“Aki, you need to come back to the demon realm for a while,” the demon said. Konoha frowned and studied the smaller demon, Komi Haruki, another demon who belonged to Michimiya’s growing list of allies. “There’s a new demon, and I don’t think I can help him learn without you.” 

“What do you mean? Teaching new demons is what you do,” Konoha protested. Komi shook his head. 

“This one’s special, Aki. Trust me, you’ll want in. I’ll send a message to Akaashi, and he’ll let Michimiya know. But we’ll keep it quiet,” Komi told him. Konoha scowled. 

“Why is this one special? We get new demons all the time-”

“It’s Eita,” Komi blurted out. Konoha froze. 

“Excuse me?”

“He’s slipping into his human form, and he knows his name, but that’s it. Aki, I know how you feel about him, so-” Konoha seized Komi by the shoulders and ducked to press his lips to the other demon’s. 

“Thank you,” Konoha breathed without pulling back, his words brushing across Komi’s mouth and making the smaller demon shiver. “You said you would get a message to Akaashi? Make sure you tell him not to let Bokuto find out.” 

“Of course,” Komi assured him, tilting his head up to kiss Konoha briefly. “You head back first. I’ll follow in a second. Just...don’t be surprised when he doesn’t remember you, okay, Aki?”

“I know. I’ll see you soon,” Konoha said, stepping back and sliding into his own demon form. “And, Ruki?”

“Yeah?”

“This might change some things, but not us, okay?” Konoha studied him seriously. Komi shook his head. 

“Of course not. Go on; I left him alone to come fetch you. No one else has gotten near him,” Komi told him. Konoha hesitated. “If you don’t go now, I’ll forget to tell Akaashi not to let Bokuto-”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Konoha interrupted hastily. He jumped into the air, only glancing back toward Komi once, and finding that the other demon was already heading for the palace. Konoha hesitated, hovering in place for a moment. Did Komi really believe him…?

_ “It’s Eita.” _

_ “I left him alone to come fetch you.” _

Komi sure knew how to encourage him to ignore his doubts and go.

Konoha closed his eyes, reaching for his connection to the demon realm.

He’d check on Komi after he saw for himself if this new demon really was who Komi thought it was. A portal swirled into being around him, and Konoha let it tug him into the demon realm. 


	3. Statements

Shirabu trailed after the rest of the group, his thoughts lingering on how insistent that annoying demon had been about watching out for Terushima getting mad at Miya. As far as Shirabu could tell, the vampire was strong and capable and had the prince wrapped around his finger - except maybe when it came to Yahaba - so he wasn’t sure what Konoha was afraid would happen. 

“Shirabu, keep up, or you’ll get lost!” Hanamaki called over his shoulder. Shirabu started to answer - he was debating telling  _ Hanamaki _ to get lost, because honestly the vampire’s narration about all the best places for Iwaizumi and Kyoutani to slip away with Oikawa and Yahaba respectively was getting  _ really fucking annoying _ \- when something wrapped around his waist and lifted him into the air. He opened his mouth to shout in fury, only for a merciless hand to grip his throat, cutting off his air. Shirabu choked and writhed, reaching for the gun he always kept strapped to his thigh, but the holster was empty when his fingers brushed it. 

“Hurry,” a disinterested voice murmured. “Before Hanamaki actually turns around.”

“Shut up and help then,” came the furious reply. Shirabu thrashed, trying to kick back against the shins and knees of whoever was grabbing him, but his vision was starting to go dark with the continued pressure at his throat. Someone sighed and seized his ankles, and he felt himself being hauled into a side hallway. A moment later, his vision went completely dark, and he went limp without a sound.

* * *

 

Shimizu was talking, but broke off when Sakusa swept into the audience hall, wrinkling his nose involuntarily at the onslaught of scents as he made his way to the royal dais at the far end of the room. The nobles parted before him, gaping as he strode forward, Ushijima at his right, Oikawa at his left, and Yahaba bringing up the rear. Behind them came Terushima and Miya, but all of the attention was on Sakusa and his companions. Astonished mutterings rippled through the hall, undoubtedly rife with comments on Semi’s absence, the presence of a human, and the return of the negotiator and blood mage who had been on the border for years. 

Sakusa ascended the dais, and Yahaba and Oikawa dropped back, taking places at the foot of the structure, in front of the throne to Shimizu’s right that belonged to Sakusa. Ushijima took the place behind Sakusa’s right shoulder as the Second Prince stopped in front of his throne and faced the gathered nobles. Terushima went to his own place on Shimizu’s left, and Miya stood at his right shoulder. 

Shimizu had risen when they entered the room, and Fourth Princess Misaki and Fifth Princess Shirofuku had followed her example, the guardians on each of their rights tensing. Together, all five royals face the nobles, and then all except Shimizu sat. 

“The First Princess welcomes the safe return of Second Prince Sakusa and Third Prince Terushima,” Shimizu announced, her voice clear and calm. “I know you all have questions, but you will remain silent and allow Second Prince Sakusa to explain the situation. All other business will be put on hold.” Sakusa stood, and Shimizu nodded to him before sitting.

“You all have noticed the return of my negotiator, Lord Oikawa Tooru, and the blood mage Yahaba Shigeru, who remains a member of my faction,” Sakusa began, his gaze sweeping the nobles before him. There was a brief wave of sound as the nobles collectively hissed in surprise. By addressing Oikawa as his negotiator, and a lord, Sakusa had firmly established that Oikawa was no longer his lover, but that all of his status as Sakusa’s favored negotiator and a member of his faction remained. Oikawa himself had to stop himself from twitching; he knew he’d lost Sakusa’s trust, so he was surprised that Sakusa had chosen to imply otherwise to the nobles. “I’m sure you’ve all also noticed that Semi Eita is not with me.” 

Utter silence. 

No one dared so much as  _ breathe _ as they waited. 

“Semi Eita gave his life in my service,” Sakusa said grimly, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to keep it steady. “He was killed during a conflict with a dangerous vampire hunter who sought to contract vampires and bend them to her will, whether they agreed or not. Instrumental in handling the situation with this hunter were a handful of trustworthy humans, some of whom had accompanied me here. One of these humans is Ushijima Wakatoshi, who stands at my back. He belongs to me. Touch him, and I will destroy you,” Sakusa added, glancing over his shoulder at Ushijima, who nodded stiffly. Sakusa then returned his attention to the audience, gaze sweeping over them to ensure his message got across. “Another is a name you’ll recognize, former vampire hunter Iwaizumi Hajime, who accompanied the negotiator Lord Oikawa and who has my full permission to defend said negotiator as he sees fit.” 

That got some shouts of protest. A human, as a negotiator’s bodyguard? The last any of them had heard, Hanamaki was in charge of Oikawa’s safety. Prince’s favor or no, contracted or not, the nobles weren’t pleased with two former vampire hunters being given positions that would make it difficult to target them politically. It wouldn’t stop them, of course, but they would have to be careful about it. 

“Just as there are humans such as the one responsible for Eita’s death, who will betray and use people for their own benefit, there are vampires who will do the same. And just as there are devoted vampires who will stand by the people they have sworn their loyalty to, there are humans worthy of trust.” Sakusa paused, sweeping the room with his eyes once more as he considered his next words. “I would like to address whatever rumors or theories are already spinning in your heads.” His words cut through the room like a blade, sharp and cold and full of lethal intent. “In case any of you doubted this from my previous statements, Oikawa Tooru, Yahaba Shigeru, Hanamaki Takahiro, and the human Matsukawa Issei, who have all spent the last several years on the border, are  _ mine _ . Attack them, and I will retaliate as I see fit. Likewise, the humans I brought from the border belong to me, and I will not allow any harm to come to them. I do hope there are no misunderstandings about this.” Sakusa glanced over the crowd one more time, then turned to Shimizu and bowed shallowly. She stood, and Sakusa took his seat. Shimizu glanced toward Terushima, who shook his head; he had nothing to add. 

And, really, what could he say? The nobles knew - or at least suspected - that Terushima had left without permission, and he’d gone to try to win Yahaba back, and from Yahaba’s position in front of Sakusa’s throne, it was clear that hadn’t happened. 

Shimizu inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement. She paused, and her bodyguard seemed to materialize in front of her, a fierce defensive mage that Sakusa didn’t particularly get along with. After all, he knew too much about Shimizu and her relationships for the bodyguard’s comfort. The mage, Nametsu, stepped closer to the First Princess and murmured in her ear, too softly for even Sakusa and Terushima to hear. 

“This audience is finished,” Shimizu announced. “You’re all dismissed.” The nobles hesitated, and Shimizu’s eyes narrowed. “Now,” she hissed, and the nobles scattered. Sakusa glanced at Shimizu’s expression and then stood. 

“Royals only,” he announced. Shimizu nodded, and Oikawa and Yahaba hesitated before heading for the door, Ushijima, Miya, and the Fourth and Fifth Princess’ bodyguards following them after receiving brief nods from their respective royals. 

“Nametsu, tell them what you told me,” Shimizu ordered. 

“The minor nobles - the ones too low-ranking for the daily audiences - didn’t wait for an announcement about the ranks of the humans,” the mage said grimly. “Prince Sakusa, Hanamaki is in the Palace Commander’s office with the remaining humans, awaiting your judgement.” Sakusa tensed. 

“Remaining humans?” he repeated, his voice becoming a snarl. Nametsu nodded and sighed. 

“One of the humans is missing, and the Palace Commander’s seekers are waiting outside for their orders,” she told him grimly. “How do you want to handle this?”

* * *

 

Miya stopped in his tracks when he saw Oikawa and Yahaba stepping off to the side with Sakunami and Shibayama. Ushijima walked right up to them, but Miya hung back, just within earshot. 

Miya’s eyes widened when he heard. 

Shirabu, missing?

“I have put too much energy into getting that brat to bow and hold his tongue so he doesn’t get killed,” Miya growled, running through a mental list of who would be stupid enough to grab a human without waiting to find out their rank and low ranking enough to not be at the audience. “Fucking Hiroo, never able to wait,” Miya muttered to himself. “I’ll get the brat back,” Miya called to Sakusa’s companions before darting off down the hallway. 


	4. Rescue

Shirabu woke with a gasp that made his throat burn. He choked and coughed, which only made the pain grow.

“He’s awake, Kouji. Knock him out again,” sighed a completely uninterested voice. Shirabu finally managed to control his breathing enough that while his throat burned with each inhale and exhale, he didn’t have to endure the shooting pain that resulted from coughing.

“Now, where’s the fun in that, Naoyasu? If he’s awake, we might as well enjoy it.” Shirabu tensed and fought not to let his breath catch as he sat up and took in his surroundings. He was laying on a bed in a room he didn’t recognize - not that he’d recognize many rooms in the vampires’ palace, he knew - and there was a pair of vampires sitting at a small table on the other side of the room, next to the door. One looked bored, even with his attention seemingly locked on the book in his hands. The other one was watching Shirabu with a smirk twisting his lips. 

“If you touch him, this won’t be a political move anymore,” the bored one sighed. “It’ll be a personal attack, and if he’s an official member of Sakusa’s faction, we’ll be in trouble.”

“You’re so boring,” the smirking one sighed. “Fine. You read your book. But I’m going to enjoy the little human while we wait for Isumi to get back.” He stood and crossed the room. Shirabu reached for his gun, only to find the holster still empty. He tried to scramble backwards, but the vampire seized his ankle and hauled him across the bed toward him. “Hold still, little bloodsack,” the vampire muttered as Shirabu tried to kick him with his free foot, only to have it caught. 

“Go fuck yourself,” Shirabu choked out, fighting through the pain in his throat, his voice rough and honestly cringe-worthy. 

“Cute,” the vampire chuckled, letting go of Shirabu’s legs and straddling the human’s knees before he could jerk away. “But I bet you relied on that fancy gun of yours back at the border. You’re not so tough without it, are you?” Shirabu scowled and tried to claw at the vampire’s face and neck, but his nails didn’t even brush his skin before the vampire caught his wrists and pinned them to the bed over his head with one hand. 

“I haven’t gotten to see Sakusa kill yet,” Shirabu rasped, trying to buck the vampire off. “But I-”

“You talk a lot,” the vampire noted, cutting off Shirabu’s words and breath with his free hand, clamping his fingers around Shirabu’s neck until his vision started to swim. Just as Shirabu’s struggles started to weaken, the vampire’s grip loosened. “Sakusa won’t kill for your sake, bloodsack. He didn’t even let Hanamaki kill the nobles who used to attack his pet human.” The vampire shifted his hold on Shirabu’s neck, tilting his head back. “Speaking of blood, I wonder how yours tastes.” 

“I’d say bite me, but it sounds like you’d enjoy that, you fucking-” Shirabu’s snarl was cut off by his own coughing this time. 

“That’s just adorable,” the vampire sneered. Shirabu glared at him as best he could with his eyes starting to water from his coughing fit and the resulting pain. The vampire let go of his neck completely and pulled the collar of his shirt aside. 

“If you bite him, Sakusa will get you for stealing blood as well as kidnapping him,” the bored one piped up. The vampire on top of Shirabu huffed in annoyance. 

“Like he’ll care. As long as it’s not Semi’s blood, he doesn’t give a shit,” he grumbled. “Besides, look at how nice and pretty he is all bruised up. I doubt anyone would fault me for taking a bite or two.”

“You’re a sick fucker, aren’t you?” Shirabu sneered, any weight his words might have had eliminated by how weak his voice was. 

“You don’t know anything about the vampire court, do you?” the vampire laughed, lowering his head and nuzzling against Shirabu’s neck experimentally. Shirabu shuddered and tried to move away, but the vampire just moved his hand from Shirabu’s collar to the back of his head. Fingers tangled in his hair and wrenched his head to the side, drawing a raspy cry from him. 

“I know you can’t be that important, or you’d be meeting with Sakusa or Terushima right now,” Shirabu hissed, keeping as quiet as he could, trying not to aggravate his throat. The vampire’s fangs tore into the side of his neck, right above the bruising from when he’d choked Shirabu unconscious. Shirabu cried out weakly and tried to throw the vampire off, but the fangs just sank deeper, and he stilled. After all, too much movement, and who knew where those fangs might end up? Shirabu  _ did not _ want to end up with his throat ripped out. The fangs receded, and the vampire sucked roughly at the wound, making Shirabu squeak and squirm in discomfort. 

“Naoyasu, come here,” the vampire on top of him ordered, lifting his head. The bored one across the room sighed, and Shirabu heard him cross the room. “Try some of his blood.” 

“I’m not-”

“I’m serious. Try it. I didn’t know humans could taste this good,” the one on top of him insisted. 

“If I bite him, will you shut up and let me read?” the bored one muttered. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” the other agreed. 

“I hope you both die horribly,” Shirabu snarled as the one on top of him sat up, releasing his grip on Shirabu’s hair and bringing his wrists down from over his head, holding them securely by Shirabu’s waist instead. The bored one leaned over and frowned down at the human for a moment. 

Then, before Shirabu realized the bored one had moved, his chin was gripped harshly - damn it, there were going to be more bruises there if these two didn’t drain him dry or whatever their plan was - and shoved up, forcing his head back again. His shirt collar was tugged down again, and then there was an almost gentle pinch just above his collarbone. He blinked. Had the vampire even actually bitten him? 

Apparently, because there was a hum of interest and approval, and then something warm and wet swiped over the same spot. The vampire was  _ licking _ him. Shirabu’s expression twisted with disgust, and a moment later, he twisted his shoulders too, hitting the bored one’s chin. There was an instant of smug satisfaction as the bored vampire reeled back, letting go of Shirabu’s chin to rub his own, eyes narrowed in irritation. 

“You’re right. His blood is above average,” the bored one mused, leaning back down with fangs bared. 

“I expect this sort of behavior from Hiroo, but honestly I’m disappointed in you, Kuguri.” Miya’s voice cut through the air, making both of the vampires who’d grabbed Shirabu freeze. The bored one released him and moved away, hands held up defensively. The one who’d been on top of him most of the time climbed off of him and faced the door. Shirabu couldn’t see the doorway, but he did see his gun tucked into the waistband of one bored vampire’s pants, at the small of his back.

Of course. He seemed like the smarter of the two, so of course he’d been the one to keep track of Shirabu’s gun. Shirabu pushed himself up and snatched the weapon before either of his kidnappers realized he might be a threat. Shirabu cocked the gun and had it pressed to the back of the bored vampire’s head in an instant, trying to ignore the way his hands shook. The other vampire turned toward him, eyes flying wide, and before he could say anything - or even fully register that the vampire hunter was armed and  _ downright furious _ \- Miya was on him, grabbing the other vampire and throwing him back towards the door. 

“Shirabu, please don’t blow Kuguri’s brains out,” Miya said as he turned to face the vampire he’d tossed across the room. “If you kill them, it’ll just mean more messy politics. We should hand them over to the royals.”

“The royals can suck my-”

“Manners, Shirabu,” Miya chided. “Remember that your friend Ushijima has a contract with a royal now. Your voice sounds terrible, by the way, so keep quiet for a bit, okay?” Shirabu glowered at him, but Miya either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Hiroo, while you’re trying to decide if it’s worth it to fight me instead of surrendering, consider that Shirabu’s been declared a member of Sakusa’s faction, along with the other humans he brought back from the border, and Oikawa and Yahaba are probably on the way here, along with Yaku’s seekers. I did tell them I’d fetch our little...did Akinori give you nickname, Shirabu?”

“Fucking bite me, Miya. These two already did, so apparently it’s fair game,” Shirabu said hoarsely. Miya shook his head. 

“You’re such a brat. Here I am, trying to  _ help _ you, and- there he goes,” Miya broke off, noting that the vampire by the door had made a run for it. “Oh, well, I know who he is, so we’ll deal with him later. Leave Kuguri; he’s no threat without Hiroo to pester him into acting out.” Shirabu narrowed his eyes and pressed the muzzle of his gun harder against the back of the bored vampire’s head, out of frustration and in an attempt to stop the gun from wavering in his hold. “Hanamaki and the others are probably in trouble for losing you. We should get back before Sakusa decides to punish them. And we should have someone take a look at you.”

“I’ve had enough people looking at me,” Shirabu muttered. Miya shook his head and approached him slowly. 

“I bet you have. Hiroo even glancing my way makes me feel slimy. But trust me, it’ll be better for everyone - including Ushijima - if we do this my way,” Miya told him calmly. Shirabu scowled at him, but didn’t object when Miya took hold of the gun and gently removed it from Shirabu’s grip. Miya set the gun in the holster on Shirabu’s thigh, then scooped the human into his arms before he could protest. 

“Put me down!” Shirabu snapped, elbowing Miya’s chest. The angle was awkward, and there was hardly any force behind the blow. Then there was the harsh coughing that stole Shirabu’s breath a second after he spoke, reminding him that he probably didn’t want to walk far on his own two feet anyway, just in case he started breathing heavily. 

“No. Letting you walk at your own pace is how Hanamaki lost you in the first place,” Miya replied. “I’m taking you to Sakusa, and I’m not about to let you get snatched again.” Shirabu crossed his arms and scowled up at the vampire when he got his coughing under control. 

“I hate you,” he rasped.

“That’s fine. But hate me politely, since I did just rescue you,” Miya told him, carrying him out of the room. “I taught you all those fancy manners for a reason.” 

“Fuck you.”

“That is a valid way to express thanks, especially among vampires, but I don’t think my prince - or yours - would approve,” Miya replied lightly. Shirabu bit back a groan that probably would have made him start coughing again if he’d let it out. 

“Miya! You just mentioned Hiroo and then ran off!” Shirabu closed his eyes. That was Oikawa’s voice. Great. Just what Shirabu needed; more vampires fussing over him. 

“You found him!” That was Yahaba, and Shirabu decided he was glad to hear the blood mage’s voice. At least it wasn’t another vampire. 

“Hiroo and Kuguri had him,” Miya told them, his hold on Shirabu tightening for a second. “I’m taking him to Sakusa now.”

“He should be in Yaku’s office, I think,” Oikawa said. “I’ll find the seekers and let them know who took him.” A moment later, Oikawa was gone, and Yahaba fell into step beside Miya as he started walking again. 

“Shirabu, are you okay? Your neck looks pretty rough,” Yahaba noted. 

“It’s nothing,” Shirabu rasped, refusing to rub his neck. Yahaba frowned at him. 

“It’s not nothing. I’m going to run ahead and find a first aid kit. I think Matsukawa brought one,” the blood mage decided. “I’ll meet you guys at Yaku’s, okay?” Before Shirabu could insist that he was fine, Yahaba was off, running toward - presumably - Yaku’s office. 

“I can walk,” Shirabu muttered. Miya shook his head. 

“Stubborn human. Just be quiet before you hurt your throat worse,” Miya ordered. Shirabu stuck his tongue out him. Miya raised one eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed. “I put too much work into teaching you about court manners. At least let me deliver you safely to your overprotective prince.”

“He’s not my prince; I’m here for Ushijima, remember? But at least demons don’t worry about that overprotective prince will attack me or whatever for being around someone else,” Shirabu whispered, trying to avoid aggravating the ache in his throat but unable to stop himself from speaking. Miya tensed, his fingers clenching as his steps slowed for a moment. 

“Yuuji won’t hurt me. He knows I’m loyal to him,” Miya said evenly. “Akinori’s just paranoid.” His tone left no room for argument, so Shirabu bit back a sigh and stayed silent for the rest of the trip. 


	5. Recovered

Shirabu found himself dozing off as he was carried through the halls of the palace, the ache in his throat and the uncomfortable feeling of dried blood on his neck from the bites keeping him from sinking into true sleep. 

“Set him down on the desk, okay? I need to look at his neck.” That voice was familiar...Yahaba? Shirabu blinked, then tensed and squeaked when he was maneuvered and then put down so he was sitting on the aforementioned desk. Gentle fingers brushed Shirabu’s chin, where bruises from Kuguri’s grip made his skin tender, and he flinched away from the touch and nearly fell over. Someone steadied him, and he managed to focus enough to look into Yahaba’s worried eyes and steel himself for the next touch. “I can reduce the swelling and bruising, but I can’t heal the wounds, so he’s still going to have marks on his neck for a few days,” Yahaba said grimly. 

“I don’t understand how they grabbed him, though. Even if Hanamaki was distracted, Shirabu’s a hunter. He’s not an easy target.” Was that...Iwaizumi?

“He let his guard down.” Now that was definitely Ushijima, and he sounded angry. Shirabu closed his eyes. 

“Hanamaki should have protected him better,” Sakusa insisted. 

“Shirabu is capable of protecting himself,” Ushijima replied firmly. 

“They got my gun,” Shirabu whispered. The room was silent for a moment.

“I have told you multiple times not to let anyone get close enough to grab your weapon,” Ushijima snapped. Shirabu glanced over and saw the older hunter frowning at him. He opened his mouth to apologize.

“No talking! And no moving!” Yahaba ordered, gently resting his fingertips on either side of Shirabu’s neck. There was an itching sensation beneath his skin, and it distracted him from the other people in the room.

“You can’t blame him for getting kidnapped!” Miya snapped as the itching faded and Shirabu refocused on his surroundings. “If he’s so helpless without a gun, that’s not his fault, it’s yours!” Shirabu tensed and scanned the room. Miya was standing in front of Ushijima, glaring up and him, and Sakusa was eyeing Miya through narrowed eyes. 

“I’m surprised to see you so invested in anyone besides Yuuji,” Sakusa commented. Miya shifted his glare to the prince.

“I put too much work into teaching that brat some semblance of court manners. He’s a quick learner when he wants to be. He should have been taught to fight unarmed. Relying on a weapon will get you killed at court; you know that,  _ your Highness _ ,” Miya pointed out, tone definitely  _ not _ the respectful one Miya had told Shirabu he should use with royals. 

“Teach him, then,” Sakusa replied easily, apparently not offended at all. Yahaba blinked, then whirled to watch the exchange. “You’ve already proved yourself more capable of keeping him safe than Hanamaki, anyway.” Shirabu noticed Hanamaki across the room, shoulders hunching slightly at Sakusa’s words. 

“It’s not Hanamaki’s fault,” Iwaizumi insisted, stepping between Sakusa and the lower-ranking vampire. Matsukawa wrapped an arm around Hanamaki’s waist. 

“It’s Hiroo’s fault for kidnapping him,” Miya agreed, crossing his arms. “And anyway, he’s part of your faction. You should have one of your people train him.” 

“If he had not let his guard down, he would not have lost the gun, and then he would not have been defenseless,” Ushijima countered. 

“If you blame Shirabu for this one more time, I’ll see if  _ you _ can defend yourself without a gun, and Sakusa can punish me or whatever all he wants,” Miya hissed. Ushijima met Miya’s gaze for a long moment. 

“No. Miya, if you believe Shirabu would benefit from unarmed combat training, then train him. As for Hanamaki…” Sakusa turned his full attention on the vampire, staring right past Iwaizumi. “Shirabu was brought back alive, and mostly in one piece. I will not entrust so many people’s safety to you at one time again. And if you feel guilty like you did about what happened to Oikawa…” Hanamaki flinched, and Matsukawa tightened his hold on the vampire. “Don’t make Yaku punish you again. You’re part of my faction, which makes you my responsibility, not Yaku’s.” Hanamaki blinked, then looked away. 

“All right.” 

“Miya,” Yahaba called. Miya reluctantly turned away from Sakusa and Ushijima to frown at Yahaba. “Do you have a scarf or something? I don’t think Shirabu wants to show off the bruising I couldn’t get rid of.” Shirabu frowned and lifted his hand to his neck, feeling how the swelling was almost gone, but the skin was still tender. Miya crossed the room and leaned around Yahaba, eyeing the patchwork of faded bruising on Shirabu’s neck, still vaguely in the shape of hands around his throat and on his jaw. 

“Yeah, I’ve got something that’ll work,” Miya decided. “Where are the humans staying? I’ll send it to Shirabu’s room.”

“Shirabu will be in one of the empty rooms in Sakusa’s wing. Across the hall from my rooms,” Yahaba answered. “Next to Hanamaki.” 

“Poor brat,” Miya tutted. “I pity anyone who has to be in a room near those two, honestly,” he added, shaking his head as he turned toward the door. Shirabu watched silently as Miya passed Sakusa and Ushijima without so much as glancing at them. Oikawa walked in as Miya left, tilting his head curiously. 

“I didn’t expect him to still be here,” Oikawa commented as he walked over to Iwaizumi and eyed him for a moment. 

“I’m not the one who got kidnapped, idiot,” Iwaizumi murmured, tugging Oikawa closer and sliding his arms around the vampire’s waist. Oikawa didn’t answer, just tucked his nose into the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck for a moment. 

“Oikawa. Yahaba said you were going to let the seekers know who kidnapped Shirabu. Has Hiroo been dealt with?” Sakusa asked. 

“Yes. Yaku showed up as I was about to head back here, complaining about his office being too crowded,” Oikawa added without lifting his head. Sakusa raised an eyebrow but otherwise ignored Oikawa’s actions.

“I’ll assume Yaku decided to go ahead and hand down the consequences himself,” Sakusa sighed. 

“He said he’d repay Hiroo blow for blow whatever damage was done to Shirabu, and he’d make sure to find Kuguri and do the same to him,” Oikawa replied, words muffled as he managed to squirm even closer to Iwaizumi, who just tightened his arms around the vampire, lips quirking up at the corners. 

“That will do for now, then,” Sakusa decided. “They didn’t know I was going to make Shirabu a full member of my faction, so I can afford to let them live.” He paused, then added, “Wakatoshi and I are going to meet with the other royals and their companions. Can I trust one of you to watch Shirabu and your own human, or do I have to take him with me and make Miya sit out of the meeting to keep an eye on him?”

“Kentarou and I can keep track of him, I’m sure,” Yahaba replied. Kyoutani frowned and nodded. Shirabu grimaced, but didn’t object.

* * *

 

Konoha stared at the demon before him. This one was obviously very young, probably born - or reborn, as the case may be - less than a week before, since it was flowing back and forth between its demon form and its human one. The creature hadn’t fully settled as a demon, yet, with the blood-red streaks along its limbs shifting and stretching, as though uncertain as to how much the streaks should mar the smooth inky blackness of its body. Silver spikes tipped in crimson rose in a ridge down the young demon’s spine, and its claws weren’t much more than inhumanly sharp nails. The fangs that glinted when the demon curled its lip weren’t in rows like Konoha’s; instead, they reminded him of a vampire’s fangs. 

The young demon flowed to human form. And Konoha’s heart stuttered, because Komi was  _ right _ . Pale hair tipped in the dark red of drying blood, fangs digging into his lower lip as he bit down on it, glaring at Konoha. 

Semi Eita clenched his fists, impatient with Konoha’s continued silence. 

“Well? Are you gonna say something or not?” Semi demanded. 

“Do you know who I am?” Konoha asked, not sure where else to begin. Semi’s eyes narrowed. 

“Of course not. I’ve never seen you before in my life,” he growled, his demon form edging back, his human skin fading to reveal the ink-and-blood coloring of his demon self. 

“My name is Konoha Akinori. You and I used to be friends,” Konoha told him. Semi shook his head. 

“I’ve definitely never met you before,” he insisted. 

“I knew you before you became a demon. You were...very important to me. If it’s alright with you, I’ll be the one to teach you how to stabilize your form and move between realms. You might start to remember your old life as you get more comfortable with your new one, or you might not. There’s really no way to tell,” Konoha told him. For a long moment, Semi studied him in silence. Then, slowly, he nodded, his fingers uncurling from the fists he’d formed while he waited for Konoha to talk. 

“Fine. Teach me how to be a demon, then,” Semi sighed. Konoha’s shoulders slumped in relief, and he had to stop himself from hugging the younger demon. 

Semi was alive, and for now at least, he didn’t remember being a vampire, didn’t remember Sakusa at all. And Konoha was going to do whatever it took to make sure it stayed that way. Sakusa had gotten Semi killed once; he wasn’t about to give Sakusa the chance to do it again.


	6. Penalties

Sakusa led Ushijima into Shimizu’s rooms, where the other royals and their companions were already waiting. Sakusa glanced curiously at Miya, who nodded before returning his attention to the blond prince sitting in his lap. Sakusa assumed that meant Miya had sent someone to take the scarf he’d mentioned to Shirabu, but wasn’t about to bring it up in front of Terushima, especially considering the way the Third Prince was wiggling in Miya’s lap, trying to settle himself more comfortably against his lover’s chest. Sakusa debated for a moment, scanning the room. Misaki was talking quietly to her bodyguard across the room, periodically shooting stern glances at Terushima. Shirofuku was tugging on her bodyguard’s arm, pouting. Sakusa shook his head and turned to murmur to Ushijima. 

“The one who looks like she’s barely old enough to be in charge of anything is Fifth Princess Shirofuku Yukie. That’s Kai Nobuyuki, her bodyguard and the one in charge of raising her to act like a proper princess,” Sakusa told him softly. Ushijima nodded, and Sakusa shifted, nudging Ushijima’s side and drawing his attention to Misaki. “Fourth Princess Misaki Hana and her second in command, Nakashima Takeru. Never challenge them to a two-on-two sparring match. Terushima tried once, and got the worst beating I’ve ever seen anyone besides Yaku hand out.”

“Duly noted,” Ushijima replied dryly. Sakusa shrugged and made his way to a couch that faced Terushima and Miya. He settled himself on it, then tried to pull Ushijima to sit beside him. “I would be able to protect you better if-”

“This isn’t about protection,” Sakusa interrupted, frowning at Ushijima until the human allowed himself to be tugged down, although Sakusa seemed to be positioning him farther away than Ushijima had expected. “We don’t bring our bodyguards, guardians, or lovers to these meetings to protect us from each other. We all know full well Kiyoko would kill us all easily no matter who we brought. We bring people with to flaunt authority. Or, in Yukie’s case, to keep her focused when she gets hungry. Right, Yukie?” Sakusa explained, raising his voice. Ushijima blinked and glanced toward the Fifth Princess, and Sakusa smirked and took that opportunity to yank Ushijima off balance. Ushijima, caught off guard, flopped sideways, and ended up laying sideways on the couch with his head on Sakusa’s lap. Ushijima was stiff for a moment as he debated trying to sit up, but then Sakusa leaned down over him and combed his fingers through the human’s hair. “Relax, Wakatoshi. You should get used to things like this.” 

“Still working on training the hunter?” Terushima called. Miya appeared to have finally tired of the prince’s squirming and locked his arms around Terushima’s waist, holding him still.  

“You should worry about your own companion, Yuuji. I heard he made quite the stir by snatching one of Kyoomi’s little humans away from Hiroo,” Misaki commented, walking over to them and sitting in a chair between Sakusa’s couch and Terushima’s chair. Nakashima perched on the arm of Misaki’s chair and eyed Ushijima curiously. Sakusa noticed that the human was still tense, and trailed his fingers along Ushijima’s neck, pausing to press his fingertips against the bite mark on Ushijima’s throat from the last time Sakusa drank his blood. Ushijima’s body relaxed at the pressure, and Sakusa hummed in satisfaction before he caught himself. 

“Is the human’s blood tasty?” Shirofuku asked eagerly, moving closer and eyeing Ushijima’s neck. Sakusa brushed Ushijima’s chin, tilting his head to expose his throat, then traced a line from his jaw to his collarbone, smirking as Shirofuku’s eyes followed the motion. 

“I’m partial to the flavor,” Sakusa told her mildly, pretending not to notice the way Ushijima shivered beneath his touch. “But I don’t plan on letting a glutton like you get your fangs in my Wakatoshi, so you’ll have to find your own human to taste.” Instead of being offended, Shirofuku whirled towards Kai, eyes wide with excitement.

“No, your Highness,” Kai said calmly. “You get plenty of blood from the nobles trying to get you to trust them.” 

“Yukie, no humans for you until Kai tells me you have enough control to not kill them accidentally,” Shimizu announced, striding into the room from the door that led deeper into her suite. Her bodyguard, the mage Nametsu, was on her heels. 

“But Kiyoko…” Shirofuku whined. 

“No, your Highness,” Kai repeated. 

“I assume you didn’t ask us here just to let Kyoomi show off his human and pretend like everything’s normal,” Misaki spoke up. Shimizu smiled slightly and shook her head. 

“Of course not. I’m sure Kyoomi will have plenty of opportunities to flaunt his new prize. There’s no need for me to provide extra chances,” Shimizu replied, amusement tinting her words. Kyoomi raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, then pointedly trailed his fingertips from Ushijima’s throat over his chest. 

“So is this about Yuuji’s unsanctioned absence?” Misaki asked. Terushima rolled his eyes and twisted on Miya’s lap to stick his tongue out at Misaki. 

“It turned out fine. It’s not like I could have made the situation any worse,” Terushima huffed. 

“You were told not to leave the palace,” Shimizu countered, her dark eyes flashing as her voice went cold. “You were explicitly told to not go near Oikawa or Yahaba. Specifically, I believe Kyoomi warned you that he would only allow you to banish Oikawa on certain conditions, one of which was that you never, ever go near him or Yahaba unless they approached you first.”

“I was repealing the banishment,” Terushima protested, sitting up straight. “That makes those conditions null and void.” Miya’s grip on the prince tightened for a second, and he sent a pleading glance at Sakusa. 

“Kyoomi?”

“Oikawa and Yahaba both chose to return to court. As long as Yuuji doesn’t harass them or their humans, I won’t demand any sort of consequences as far as my agreement with him goes,” Sakusa answered. “However, I don’t think he should be allowed to defy the First Princess the way he did.”

“I didn’t-” Terushima surged to his feet. Miya stayed seated, silent. 

“You disobeyed a direct order. I’ll allow each of the other royals to give you a penalty,” Shimizu decided. Shirofuku spoke first.

“That bunch of nobles that follows you around. They have really tasty blood, right? I want them to feed me for-”

“One feeding each will suffice, I’m sure,” Kai interrupted. “And perhaps Prince Terushima would be so kind as to let you drink his blood as well.” Shirofuku beamed and nodded eagerly. Terushima clenched his fists and nodded shortly. 

“Fine.”

“That estate we’ve been arguing over, the one in the north,” Misaki said next. “Stop trying to take it from me.” Terushima scowled and opened his mouth to protest, only to catch sight of Shimizu’s forbidding glare. 

“Kyoomi, it’s your turn!” Shirofuku urged, bouncing in place, eager to finish this meeting so she could hunt down one of the nobles who would now be obligated to feed her. 

“You already have Shigeru’s loyalty. What more could you want from me?” Terushima muttered. Sakusa chuckled, and Terushima scowled. “No. Don’t you dare,” the Third Prince hissed, shifting so he was blocking Sakusa’s view of Miya. Ushijima tensed, then sat up when Sakusa patted his shoulder. Sakusa stood and stalked forward until he loomed over Terushima. 

“I have Yahaba’s loyalty because I don’t take it for granted, and I return that loyalty as best I can,” Sakusa informed him coldly.

“Well, that didn’t turn out to be such a good deal for Semi, did it?” Terushima growled. Sakusa’s hand closed around Terushima’s throat before the Third Prince could even registered the movement, let alone try to dodge it. 

“If you ever taint Eita’s name by speaking it again, I will find a way to take everything you value and destroy it,” Sakusa hissed as Terushima scrabbled at his wrist. 

“Kyoomi, unless you’re going to count that as your penalty, release him,” Shimizu ordered. Sakusa considered for a moment, then let go of Terushima’s neck. The Third Prince staggered, then regained his footing and straightened to glare at him. 

“No. He would only heal himself from physical injury. Miya Atsumu,” Sakusa said, his gaze fixed on Terushima’s expression. “You said that Shirabu should have unarmed combat training. I’ll take you up on that suggestion. Terushima, I’m borrowing Miya until Shirabu is fully trained. He’ll live in my wing of the palace, train Shirabu and anyone else who wants to learn Miya’s style of fighting. Don’t worry, my people are fast learners. I’m sure Miya won’t be with me too long.” 

“You can’t do that,” Terushima snarled. “You can’t just force Atsumu to join you; he’s  _ mine _ .”

“I’m not trying to change that. But I’m borrowing him to build up my faction’s defenses. Because you’re right; I can’t protect them as well as I’d like to,” Sakusa replied. “Of course, if Miya doesn’t want to do this, I’ll settle for breaking every bone in your body instead.” 

“Yuuji, it’s fine. I’ll be back before you know it,” Miya murmured, standing and leaning over Terushima’s shoulder to kiss his cheek. Terushima whirled and glared at him, making Miya flinch and step back. His foot caught on the chair they’d been sitting in, and he started to fall. Sakusa stepped past Terushima and caught Miya’s arm, steadying him. 

“You’re letting him use you against me,” Terushima accused. 

“No, you put him - and the rest of your faction - in danger when you decided to disobey Kiyoko,” Sakusa replied. “And speaking of Kiyoko, I think our First Princess has one more penalty for you.” Terushima spun to face Shimizu, ready to protest Sakusa’s decision, or maybe he was going to try to say three penalties was enough. 

He never got a word out, because Shimizu’s fist connected with his nose, and then her heel slammed into his stomach. Miya instinctively moved to protect him, but Nametsu was between him and the two royals in an instant, her magic forming a protective bubble around them as Terushima doubled over, blood spilling from his nose and mouth as he coughed and gasped for breath. Shimizu spun, kicking out so her other foot crashed into the side of his head. Terushima crashed to the floor, choking on his own blood and wheezing for air. 

“You will not have your people heal you today or tomorrow or the day after,” Shimizu announced coldly. “You will stay in your rooms, and not cause any trouble. And if you disobey me again within the next five years, I will kill you and anyone loyal to you. Have I made myself clear?” Terushima didn’t move except for the shuddering as he struggled to pull air into his lungs. Shimizu nudged him onto his back with her foot, then raised it over his chest warningly. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” Terushima wheezed. Shimizu nodded sharply, and Nametsu’s bubble winked out of existence. 

“He’ll be fine,” Sakusa murmured to Miya, who stood frozen in place, pale and trembling. “He’s been through worse. Come on.” Miya turned stiffly and walked to the door. Sakusa glanced at Terushima, then at Shimizu. “You should have warned me and let me send Miya out before you did that,” he told her. Shimizu met his gaze coldly. 

“You coddle your subordinates, Kyoomi.”

“You only show compassion to demons and mermaids,” Sakusa retorted. “Wakatoshi, we’re leaving.” Ushijima stood and went immediately to Sakusa’s side. Sakusa cast one last glance at the prince on the floor, then hurried after Miya, Ushijima on his heels. 


	7. Breaking

Shirabu was eyeing the honestly horrifying heap of fabric that had been deposited in the room he’d been assigned. Well, rooms. He had, like, three apparently. He wasn’t sure what to make of so much space. Or so many scarves, honestly. 

“Shirabu?” Shirabu looked up and found Oikawa standing in the doorway. Shirabu nodded and went back to staring at the mound of cloth in front of him. “I guess Miya went a little overboard, huh?” Shirabu shrugged, and Oikawa stepped into the room. Shirabu glanced back at him and saw Iwaizumi follow him in. 

“You should be resting,” Iwaizumi said with a frown. Shirabu shook his head and picked up one of the scarves. 

“Not that one. It’s too long; someone could grab that and then you’d be kidnapped again, and that would be embarrassing,” Oikawa objected. “Here.” He pulled something from the pile that was definitely  _ not _ a scarf. Instead, it looked like a short one-shoulder cape with a hood. “This will put enough shadow on your neck and face to hide the bruises, and it fastens at the front instead of being one whole piece. If someone yanks on it, instead of choking you it’ll come off.” Shirabu eyed the garment for a moment, then sighed and put it on. With the hood down, it almost felt like a scarf, and the fabric was soft enough that Shirabu ducked his chin and tugged the material up a little, hiding the lower half of his face in it. 

“Oikawa?” All three of them turned toward the door, where Yahaba stood, expression grim. “You and Iwaizumi should come hear what happened at the royals’ meeting. And Shirabu, you have a visitor.” Shirabu frowned and opened his mouth to protest. He wanted to know what had happened, too, especially if Yahaba seemed so troubled by it. Then he caught sight of Miya standing behind Yahaba and shut his mouth. Oikawa and Iwaizumi went to the door, and Oikawa paused to eye Miya for a moment before leaving with the others. 

“Come in,” Shirabu urged when Miya hesitated at the door. Miya stepped into the room, and Shirabu’s eyes widened. Miya was shaking, unsteady on his feet, his face pale and his eyes wide. Shirabu hurried across the room and pulled him farther inside, then shut and locked the door. “Miya, what’s wrong?” 

“It's nothing,” Miya said, taking a deep breath to brace himself. The shaking stopped, and his expression shifted to something calmer. 

“Bullshit. You look like hell,” Shirabu snapped. Miya stared at him for a long moment. “Is it whatever Yahaba and Oikawa are gossiping about?” Shirabu tilted his head, trying to figure out what would make Miya so upset but so unwilling to talk about it. “Is it Terushima?”

At the Third Prince’s name, Miya flinched and looked away. Shirabu hesitated for a moment, then guided Miya to sit on the couch. Shirabu stood in front of him and studied Miya carefully, debating how best to get him to open up. 

“I said it’s nothing,” Miya snapped. 

“And I said that’s bullshit,” Shirabu replied, narrowing his eyes. He was smaller than Miya, but the irritation and determination in his gaze seemed to make the vampire shy away, so Shirabu leaned over him and scowled. “If I have to go interrupt Yahaba’s little get-together with Oikawa, I will. I imagine they won’t be happy, but I’m sure they’d be able to guess what’s going on with you since they seem to have some idea of what’s happening, but no one apparently thinks I should know.” Miya blinked at him, then sighed. 

“They probably assume I’ll tell you,” Miya explained, a shadow flickering across his expression. 

“Whatever it is has something to do with why you’re so close to falling apart, doesn’t it?” Shirabu guessed. Miya winced and leaned away from him. Deciding that what Miya needed was a good shock to get him to talk, Shirabu put his hands on his hips and stepped closer, his legs bumping Miya’s knees to get his attention. “I will sit on you if you don’t tell me.” Miya scoffed, clearly not believing him, so Shirabu slid forward and deposited himself squarely on Miya’s lap, straddling the vampire’s thighs and leaning forward to rest his hands on the back of the couch on either side of Miya’s head, caging him in. “Tell me what’s going on that’s got Yahaba and Oikawa and everyone in such an uproar, and tell me why you’re so upset even if you’re trying to hide it.” Miya gulped, staring at the human with what might have been awe at the sheer  _ audacity _ of Shirabu just...settling onto his lap like this was completely normal. 

“What are you doing?” Miya demanded. Shirabu huffed and leaned closer, until his would-be stern frown dominated Miya’s field of vision. 

“I warned you I would sit on you if you didn’t tell me. I’m not getting up until you spill,” Shirabu announced. Miya raised an eyebrow, clearly challenging him. Shirabu shrugged and settled himself more comfortably on Miya’s thighs. “We can just sit here until someone else comes to tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It’s just royal politics,” Miya said, trying for a dismissive tone and only sort of succeeding. 

“That doesn’t mean much to a little human hunter like me,” Shirabu informed him. 

“Your voice sounds a lot better,” Miya replied. Shirabu grumbled and dropped one hand from the back of the couch to jab at Miya’s stomach. The vampire yelped and twitched, jostling the human on his lap, but Shirabu managed to not be knocked off. 

“Royal politics,” Shirabu reminded him. “And why you looked like you were going to cry or collapse or both when you got here.” 

“Fuck you,” Miya muttered. Shirabu smirked and leaned closer, letting his forehead rest on Miya’s. 

“Do you want to? Vampires aren’t really my thing, and I think your prince-” Shirabu broke off his taunting and frowned worriedly as Miya’s breath caught suddenly, almost sounding like he’d suppressed a sob, at the mention of Terushima. “Fuck, Miya, what  _ happened _ ?” Shirabu demanded, straightening to stare at the crumbling expression on the vampire’s face. 

“Yuuji was punished,” Miya whispered, his voice rough as he tried to keep control of his emotions. “Shimizu...let each of the royals set a penalty for him, and then she punished him herself.” Shirabu sat back, settling on Miya’s knees as he listened. “Shirofuku and Misaki just took little things...a couple of meals, some estate…” Miya took a deep, shuddering breath. “Sakusa’s penalty was for me to train you in unarmed combat. And I’m supposed to live with his faction until that’s done.” Shirabu held completely still. That couldn’t be the only thing bothering Miya, right? Sure, he might be upset by it, but Miya seemed like a tough person to drive to the point of shaking and flinching. Something was nagging at the back of Shirabu’s mind. Oh. Miya had mentioned Shimizu punished Terushima, too. 

“What was Shimizu’s punishment?” Shirabu asked. Miya’s shoulders hunched, and a little whine escaped his throat. 

“She beat him,” Miya choked out. “He was on the floor, bleeding, and she wouldn’t let anyone heal him. I couldn’t...Sakusa brought me back here, and I just…I  _ left him there _ , and-”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for that,” Shirabu snapped. “It is not your fault he got hurt, and it is not your fault if Shimizu wouldn’t let you heal him. It’s also not your fault that Sakusa is apparently using you and your belief that I should be able to fight without a gun to punish Terushima.” Miya was trembling again, and shaking his head. 

“I should have been able to stop him from following Sakusa to the border in the first place,” Miya whimpered. “I should have been able to...to get him to move on. I should have...I should’ve been... _ why am I not enough for him _ ?” Miya pitched forward, and Shirabu wrapped his arms around the distraught vampire, steadying them both and trying to process Miya’s words. 

Shirabu knew Terushima had gone to the border to try to get Yahaba to be with him again - Yahaba had complained to Kyoutani about the Third Prince often enough on the journey back to the palace to make that clear, and make it just as clear that Terushima had failed to win the blood mage over - and he knew Miya was Terushima’s current lover. So really...as upsetting as it was for Miya to be separated from his prince for any period of time, and as helpless and awful as seeing Terushima hurt must have made him feel…

Miya was somehow blaming all of that on himself, for not being enough for the prince. 

How could Terushima have a lover as obviously devoted to and in love with him as Miya was and string them along like this while making him feel like he wasn’t good enough because Terushima put all of his energy and put himself and probably Miya at risk just to have a chance at getting Yahaba back?

Shirabu tightened his hold on the vampire sobbing into his shoulder and stroked his fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him. He didn’t know what else to do except wait until Miya calmed down. 

And in that moment, Shirabu decided that as annoyed as he was with Sakusa - for many different reasons, including dragging Ushijima into this vampire politics mess and apparently deciding to use Miya against Terushima - the Third Prince was much worse, and Shirabu absolutely loathed him. 


	8. Bites

Shirabu carefully shifted, testing how much he could move without waking the vampire in his arms. Miya didn’t react as Shirabu gently leaned him back against the couch, then rose from his lap and tried to lay him down so he’d be more comfortable. He wasn’t sure when Miya had fallen asleep on him, but he knew he really, really needed to talk to someone about the vampire. Shirabu slipped out of his room, and heard voices across the hall. He approached the door and hesitated when he realized what they were saying. 

“Miya’s still in Shirabu’s room. Think the kid’s alive?” That sounded like Iwaizumi. 

“Shirabu’s fine. Miya’s like a baby bird. When he imprints on someone, he’s gone,” Oikawa’s voice replied dismissively. 

“Yeah. He wouldn’t hurt Shirabu. Honestly, it’s Miya we should worry about.” Shirabu blinked; that was Yahaba. “He’s here until Shirabu learns how to protect himself, but then he’ll go back to Terushima. If Terushima’s moved on by then, or if he’s holding a grudge because of the punishments, Miya’s going to be in trouble.” The blood mage’s voice was grim, resigned. 

“He won’t move on. Unless you’re planning to shift Yuuji’s focus yourself,” Sakusa’s voice sighed. “Yuuji’s pretty obsessed with making sure Miya doesn’t leave him. Even if he did pick up another lover - it’s happened a few times since you left - he wouldn’t let go of Miya.”

“He might be upset if Miya really does trust Shirabu now, though,” Yahaba pointed out. 

“I’ll do what I can to keep Yuuji under control. Oikawa, can you keep a few whispers circulating that Miya is fine, but he’s anxious to get back to his prince?” Sakusa asked. 

“Of course. I need to reestablish my connections anyway,” Oikawa sniffed, sounded offended that Sakusa had apparently doubted him. There was a pause in the conversation. 

“So. Shirabu. Why did you bring him with?” Iwaizumi asked. “No offense to the kid, but he’s young, and even trained by Ushijima-”

“Shirabu is a skilled hunter,” Ushijima spoke for the first time, and Shirabu’s eyes widened. “He is also a fast learner. He will find a way to prove himself a useful asset.” 

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Oikawa sighed. 

“Shirabu is under my protection, and Yaku has already handed down the punishments for Hiroo and Kuguri. No one will touch him,” Sakusa assured him. Shirabu resisted the urge to snort. Yeah, the prince’s protection did wonders for everyone he tried to take care of. Shirabu shook his head and glanced back at his own door. Speaking of princes and protection…

He needed to know more about Miya’s situation, but he didn’t think he’d be able to ask any of Sakusa’s faction without them questioning him about his interest in the vampire, especially considering their comments about Miya trusting him. Thinking of the way Miya had collapsed on him in tears and cried himself to sleep, Shirabu decided he didn’t really want them asking about the vampire. Pulling his hood up so the fabric shadowed his face, Shirabu headed for the end of the hall, where Sakusa’s wing connected to the rest of the palace. 

He needed information, and he needed it from someone who wouldn’t ask questions. 

Shirabu left Sakusa’s wing and almost ran right into someone. He stumbled back, an apology dying on his lips as he recognized the person before him. 

“Kuguri?” he blurted out. The vampire’s eyes widened. 

“Human,” Kuguri replied, taking a step back. Shirabu noticed a plethora of bruises around Kuguri’s throat and jaw, and frowned. Kuguri lifted a hand to his neck and sighed. “Don’t pity me.” Shirabu hesitated, an idea tickling at the back of his head. 

“Hey, Kuguri. What do you know about Miya Atsumu?” Kuguri’s eyes narrowed.

* * *

 

Shirabu ducked and threw himself sideways, hit the ground and rolled to his feet again, his hood falling back to reveal his pout.

“You’re cheating,” Shirabu accused, twisting his body to the side to avoid a kick. He grabbed for his opponent’s ankle, but missed. 

“Nah, you’re just really bad at attacking,” Miya replied, smirking. “It’s your personality; you’re too defensive, you know.” 

“Says the one who-” Shirabu abruptly shut up as he was forced to dive forward to avoid Miya’s next attack as the vampire slipped behind him. He somersaulted, pushing his irritation at the vampire’s speed out of his mind. “Fuck you, honestly,” Shirabu muttered as he came to his feet and spun to face Miya, who smirked and eyed him appraisingly. 

“What was it you said? Vampires aren’t your thing?” Miya taunted. Shirabu scowled and darted forward, slipping under Miya’s arm as the vampire grabbed for him. Miya’s fingers closed on the fabric of Shirabu’s hood, but the human ignored it and kept moving, the clasp at his throat releasing with the pressure the way it was supposed to. Shirabu silently thanked Oikawa as he spun, slipped one arm around Miya’s waist and reached up to wrap the other around his neck. Miya went limp in his arms, dropping the hood to the ground, and Shirabu yelped and collapsed with the unexpected weight, Miya ending up on top of him and driving the breath from his lungs. “You’re fast, but you’re not strong,” Miya snickered as he rolled off of him and stood. He reached out a hand to help Shirabu up. “You’re supposed to use my weight against me, not let me overpower you by doing  _ literally nothing. _ Let’s go aga- Shirabu, what-” Shirabu didn’t take the time to wonder what made Miya’s eyes fly wide. He just gripped the vampire’s offered hand and yanked, twisting to throw Miya to the ground. “Shirabu, stop, hold up!” Miya ordered, scrambling to his feet with a stricken expression. Shirabu narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. 

“You can’t call time out just because I finally got you,” Shirabu complained.

“Shirabu!” Miya’s voice cut through his irritation, made him blink in surprise. Shirabu paused, trying to figure out what had made Miya react...however he was reacting. Shirabu shifted, and Miya’s gaze stayed locked on him. No...on his neck. 

“Oh, fuck,” Shirabu muttered, glancing over at his hood, which lay on the ground, just out of reach. He lifted his hand to his neck, covering the puncture wounds just above his shoulder with his hand. 

“Shirabu, I thought those bruises and bites were gone last week,” Miya growled. Shirabu shrugged and went to the garment on the ground. 

“They were,” he sighed as he bent down to scoop it up. He situated the hood on his head again, the attached cape draping over his shoulder as he fastened the clasp at his throat. The fabric pooled around his shoulders, casting his neck into shadow, hiding the mark that had caught Miya’s attention. 

“Shirabu, why is there a fresh bite on your neck?” Miya demanded. Shirabu huffed and adjusted his hood, tugging the fabric up and ducking his head to hide his face in it, trying to buy himself time. Finally, he settled the material back into place around his neck, and faced Miya. 

“Because I got bitten,” Shirabu said dismissively. “It’s not a big deal. I’m sure as soon as Sakusa decides I’m well trained and you go back to Terushima, you’ll have plenty of bites of your own.” 

“Shirabu,” Miya hissed. “Who bit you?” Shirabu raised an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t that supposed to be private or something?” he pointed out. Miya stared at him in disbelief. 

“You can’t be serious. I have fucking... _ cried _ on you. More than once in the last two weeks. I think I deserve an explanation.” Shirabu sighed and pushed his hood back, letting it fall down between his shoulders, and automatically adjusted the fabric to keep it pooled around his throat enough to hide the bite. 

“Look, it’s really no big deal. Blood is basically currency here. I’ve been shopping, that’s all,” Shirabu told him. Miya’s eyes narrowed. 

“Shopping for what?” 

“Information. And allies,” Shirabu admitted reluctantly. “After Yaku and his seekers beat up on Hiroo and Kuguri for kidnapping me, I ran into Kuguri again. You were sleeping, and I took a walk. He offered information in exchange for blood.”

“And you took that offer?” Miya blurted out. “Shirabu, that’s dangerous!” Shirabu shrugged. 

“I’m learning. Kuguri’s a good source, and he introduced me to a few others.” Miya scowled at the human’s dismissive tone, but before he could say anything, Shirabu spoke again. “I don’t see why you care, anyway. At this rate, Sakusa will be satisfied within another week, and you’ll go back to your own faction.” Miya’s eyes widened, and his features went slack with shock. 

“What…”

“Anyway, if we’re not going to spar again, then I should go,” Shirabu told him. Miya started to protest, but Shirabu pulled his hood up over his head again, tugging it to cast his features into shadow. 

“Are you going to see your  _ sources _ ?” Miya spat. Shirabu sighed and met his gaze as best he could with the hood hiding his expression. 

“Why are you so upset about this?”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe we were  _ friends _ ! Maybe I’m worried about you! What you’re doing is dangerous,” Miya insisted. Shirabu closed the distance between them and slid his arms around Miya’s waist, pulling the vampire into a hug. 

“We are friends,” he assured him. “And I’m really grateful to you for teaching me to defend myself without my gun, even if it was partly just because of Sakusa. But I can do more than just protect myself. I can be useful, to Ushijima and to Sakusa, and I can use my blood to protect them as well as myself. I’ll be careful, okay? So you don’t have to worry.”

“Atsumu?” Shirabu froze, then leaped away from Miya, who was already bolting across the courtyard even as Shirabu’s arms retreated. 

“Yuuji!” Miya almost shrieked, throwing his arms around the prince and pulling him close. Shirabu let his gaze linger on Miya long enough to reassure himself that Terushima didn’t seem upset. Terushima’s arms came up around Miya’s neck, and a moment later, the prince’s back was against the wall, and he was sinking his fangs into the crook of Miya’s neck. Shirabu caught Terushima’s gaze over Miya’s shoulder, and the prince’s expression tightened, his eyes narrowing warningly for a moment before they closed all the way. 

Shirabu tried to block out the little whine that escaped Terushima’s lips as Miya’s knee slipped between Terushima’s thighs. The human shook his head and turned away. 

This was why he didn’t want Miya worrying about him. The one thing he’d learned that everyone at court knew about Miya was that he was absolutely devoted to Terushima. So really, it was only a matter of time before the prince showed up again. Really, Shirabu was surprised it had taken him two weeks to risk irritating Sakusa by coming to see Miya. 

Shirabu lifted a hand to his neck, fingers sliding beneath the material of his hood to brush against the fang marks on his skin. He was supposed to meet Kuguri and a possible new information source soon anyway, so it was probably good that his sparring with Miya had been cut short. 

Somehow, that didn’t make the pit in his stomach that had been growing rapidly since Miya pulled away from him without a second thought any smaller. 


	9. Deals

“Shirabu,” Kuguri murmured, falling into step beside the human as he headed for their prearranged meeting place. “This noble isn’t like the others. He’s higher ranking, and he might not be cooperative.” Shirabu reached up to his hood, unfastening it and draping it neatly over his arm as he walked.

“Don’t worry. Between your connections and Miya’s lessons on manners, I can handle him,” Shirabu assured him. Kuguri sighed and ducked his head, acknowledging Shirabu’s confidence. Shirabu smiled to himself and reached up to ruffle the vampire’s hair. “Hey, have some confidence in me. Plus you’ve got my back, right?”

“Since you’re paying me,” Kuguri agreed, leaning into the touch for a moment before straightening as they approached the meeting point. A noble in a deep green cloak watched them, expression shadowed by his hood. Shirabu bowed as they reached him, and Kuguri did the same at his side. “Lord Sakishima Isumi, may I present Shirabu Kenjirou?” The noble stepped forward and pushed his hood back.

“Hello, human,” Sakishima greeted him. “I’ve seen you in the courtyard, sparring with Terushima’s pet. You’ve gotten stronger in just the time you’ve been here. If you were a vampire, I might almost respect how much work you’ve put in.” Shirabu felt his eyes narrow despite his best efforts, but managed not to snap at the noble.

“So you admit I’ve caught your attention,” Shirabu said instead. Sakishima smirked and let his gaze trail over the human’s body, attention catching on the bite mark still prominent on the side of Shirabu’s neck.

“You could say that,” Sakishima admitted. He glanced at Kuguri and added, “Anyone who can get the eternally disinterested Kuguri Naoyasu to put the effort into seeking me out has at least earned a conversation with me, human or not.” Kuguri let out a huff of breath could have been amusement, irritation, or just fatigue. “Now, I believe you wanted information from me?” Sakishima seemed almost offended.

“Actually, no. From what I’ve learned, you’re considered one of the most influential nobles who is not a member of any royal’s faction, and even have a small following of you own. You also oppose the alliance with the humans,” Shirabu said. “I’d like to change that.” Sakishima raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to join Sakusa’s faction, no matter what you offer me, human,” the noble informed him curtly.

“That’s not what I’m asking. All I want is for you to withdraw your opposition of the alliance. You don’t have to support it, just don’t oppose it. I’m sure we could reach an agreement for how I can make that worth your while,” Shirabu explained, tilting his head to expose the unmarked side of his throat. Sakishima’s gaze lingered on the pale stretch of skin for a moment as he considered.

“Perhaps we can... _negotiate_ in a more private location,” Sakishima suggested, his lips curving in amusement as Shirabu bowed in acceptance. “Excellent. Follow me.” Sakishima pulled his hood up, once more concealing his expression in shadow, and Shirabu draped his own hooded half-cape around his shoulders, arranging the fabric so his neck was in shadow just in case he came across any of Sakusa’s faction members.

Sakishima led them to a wing of the palace Shirabu had been to a few times, where the nobles who weren’t part of any royal faction lived. Kuguri’s single room was nearby, with the other lowest-ranking nobles. Sakishima had several rooms, but as soon as Shirabu and Kuguri were inside the first one, the noble stopped and turned to face them once more.

“You offer a taste of your blood in exchange for information that might benefit you directly, or might benefit Sakusa, correct?” Sakishima asked. Shirabu bowed, once more removing his hood and this time handing it to Kuguri, who stood in front of the door to the rest of the palace.

“That is correct, my Lord,” Shirabu replied, keeping his tone calm even as he wanted to grimace and walk right back out of Sakishima’s rooms.

“And since you’re asking more of me, I assume you’re willing to give me more than a taste in return?” Sakishima continued. Shirabu bowed again, and this time when he straightened, Sakishima was directly in front of him. Shirabu tensed, but kept his expression neutral.

“Of course,” Shirabu agreed as calmly as he could. Sakishima was about his height, Shirabu realized as the vampire reached up and pressed lightly on Shirabu’s jaw, tilting his head so he could study the human’s neck. “Provided you do actually become a neutral party on the topic of the alliance with the humans.”

“Let me have that taste you give the others, and then I’ll decide,” Sakishima decided. “If your blood is no good-”

“Do you think I would be able to motivate Kuguri with poor-quality blood, my Lord?” Shirabu interrupted dryly. Sakishima glanced at Kuguri, who still stood dutifully by the door.

“I suppose not,” Sakishima conceded. “Very well. You have my word; I will stop opposing the alliance with the humans. Now, as for my payment…” Shirabu tilted his head a little more, exposing as much of his throat as he could. Sakishima hummed thoughtfully and leaned forward, nuzzling under Shirabu’s jaw and pausing, gauging the human’s reaction. Shirabu didn’t move, so Sakishima shrugged and bared his fangs. Shirabu managed not to wince as those fangs sank into his skin. He closed his eyes and waited as Sakishima removed his fangs and lapped experimentally at the blood welling up from the new puncture wounds. Shirabu suppressed a shudder; no matter how many times he let a noble bite him, it made his skin crawl every time, especially when they _licked_ him.

Shirabu considered making a quip about letting blood go to waste as Sakishima lifted his head and simply watched the blood trickled down the side of the human’s throat, but the words died on his lips as the noble leaned in again and wiped the blood away with a swipe of his tongue. Shirabu cringed before he could stop himself, then froze, every muscle in his body going stiff as Sakishima’s free hand came to rest on his hip. The noble guided him backwards, and Shirabu hesitated for a moment before obeying the noble’s silent order, letting himself be walked back until his shoulders hit the wall. Blood was trailing down his skin again, and the noble once more lapped at the crimson stain instead of just latching onto the wound and drinking. Both of Sakishima’s hands were on Shirabu’s hips now, and it took all of his determination to keep his head tilted and his hands at his sides.

Shirabu let himself grimace, since the noble couldn’t see his expression with his attention on Shirabu’s blood. Kuguri shifted, the slight sound catching Shirabu’s attention but not even registering with Sakishima. Shirabu glanced sideways, caught Kuguri’s eye. Kuguri blinked slowly at him, the corners of his mouth tilted downward. Shirabu smiled, and held still as Sakishima’s hands slid up from his hips, trailing over his sides. Sakishima finally tired of lapping at the blood running down Shirabu’s neck and latched onto the wound as his fingers reached Shirabu’s ribs. Shirabu’s knees shook as he debated whether or not to stop Sakishima’s wandering hands. If he let the noble do as he pleased, it could lead to more than just a neutral stance on the alliance...

“Shirabu,” Kuguri spoke for the first time since they entered Sakishima’s rooms. Shirabu opened his mouth to answer, but a wave of exhaustion swept over him, and his knees buckled. Sakishima hissed in surprise and detached from the bite as Kuguri darted forward. Kuguri managed to grab hold of Shirabu’s shirt and haul the human into his arms, away from Sakishima. “I apologize, Lord Sakishima, but it seems Shirabu has overexerted himself. Please allow me to take him back to his rooms so that he can recover, and when he wakes up and recovers, I’m sure he would be willing to feed you again to ensure continued goodwill between-”

“Don’t try so hard, Kuguri,” Sakishima interrupted, wiping his mouth and eyeing the taller vampire with disdain. “It doesn’t suit you.” Kuguri ducked his head and settled Shirabu more securely in his arms. “I’ll talk to the human when he’s awake. Get him out of my sight.”

* * *

 

Miya made his way back to Sakusa’s wing of the palace with a comforting ache in the form of Terushima’s bite at the crook of his neck and the memory of his prince pressing against him lingering in his mind. Terushima hadn’t forgotten him, hadn’t moved on. Terushima had been desperate to touch him, to taste his blood, and he’d been reluctant to let go. Miya licked his lips; The third Prince had encouraged him to bite him in return, and oh, Miya had _missed_ the taste of Terushima’s blood, rich and sweet and fierce, full of lust and possessiveness. For the last two weeks, Miya had satisfied his need for blood by feeding from some of the lower-ranking nobles who were always clamoring to get close to Terushima; Miya didn’t even know their names, and didn’t remember the flavor of their blood.

But Terushima’s blood, oh, that he definitely remembered.

Miya wondered briefly what Shirabu’s blood tasted like. Human blood was supposed to have a metallic scent and flavor, right? He wondered if Shirabu’s blood would be salty, or sour like the irritated glances the human gave him when Miya got the best of him during their training sessions.

Of course, he could just ask Kuguri or whoever Shirabu was apparently using his blood to get information from. Miya remembered the way the bite mark had stood out against Shirabu’s skin. Now that he thought about it, actually, the healing bite shouldn’t have been so obvious, even if it was made the day before. Shirabu was much too pale, and while his skill during training had improved dramatically, his movements weren’t really much faster, like Shirabu was slowing as he got better at the attacks and defense moves.

Miya paused, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He reached out, braced himself against the wall. Even though Terushima had let Miya have some of his blood, Miya hadn’t drunk nearly as much from the prince as Terushima had from him. Now that he thought about it, Terushima had taken more than usual…

“Oh, fuck,” Miya muttered, the hand not pressed to the wall curling into a fist. Shirabu’s movements were slower than they should be. He was paler than he was when he’d first arrived at court, too. “Fuck, fuck, _fucking hell_ , the little brat is letting them take too much.” Miya heard someone behind him and glanced over his shoulder. What he saw made him freeze.

Kuguri - fucking _Kuguri_ of all people - was carrying an unconscious Shirabu down the hall. Kuguri passed Miya without so much as looking at him, and slipped into Shirabu’s room like...like he belonged there.

Fury and fear warred in Miya, because how _dare_ Kuguri just walk in here, carrying Shirabu like they were...were what? Allies? Friends? Lovers? Miya didn’t know, he was still dizzy from his own blood loss and couldn’t think straight. But whatever Kuguri thought he was to Shirabu, whatever right that low-ranking noble thought he had to carry Shirabu back to his rooms like that, he was _wrong_. And for Shirabu to need Kuguri to carry him...Shirabu had lost even more blood than Miya thought, and that was dangerous. Really, really dangerous.

He’d seen Oikawa’s human, and Hanamaki’s, and even Sakusa’s, and they were are fairly large humans, sturdy-looking, and Hanamaki and Oikawa had both been contracted to their humans for a while, so they were used to feeding a vampire regularly. But Shirabu wasn’t; Shirabu was smaller, and the brat was skinny - Miya was more inclined to think wiry or lithe while they were sparring, but in Kuguri’s arms, unconscious, Shirabu just looked _tiny_ \- and he was probably feeding multiple vampires if his mention of multiple sources was to be believed.

“Damn brat,” Miya muttered, forcing himself away from the wall and toward Shirabu’s door. He needed to check on the human, and make sure Kuguri wasn’t going to finish draining him while Shirabu was unconscious and therefore defenseless. Miya stumbled as he walked into Shirabu’s rooms. Since the front room was empty, and he could hear movement in the bedroom beyond, Miya scowled and stomped to said bedroom, forcing his legs to carry him. When he reached the doorway and peered inside, however, he nearly fell over, and this time it had nothing to do with Terushima maybe being a little too eager to drink his blood and possibly taking too much.

Shirabu was stretched out on his bed, the blankets tucked carefully around him, and the boots he’d been wearing set neatly beside the bed. Kuguri was sitting on the bed, next to Shirabu’s unconscious form. The vampire was watching the human, concern wrinkling his brow and tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“What did you do to him?” Miya hissed. Kuguri looked up, took in the fresh bite just beginning to scab over on Miya’s neck, and the rumpled appearance of Miya’s clothes.

“Nothing he didn’t ask me to do,” Kuguri replied cryptically. He brushed Shirabu’s bangs out of his eyes, the touch oddly caring for a vampire known to have no interest in anyone else, then leaned down and nuzzled Shirabu’s neck slowly, eyes fixed on Miya as Shirabu shifted and sighed in his sleep.

“‘Morrow,” Shirabu mumbled. Maybe he wasn’t as out of it as Miya thought. Kuguri’s lips twitched as he tilted his head, bringing his lips to Shirabu’s ear as he murmured his reply.

“Don’t worry about it. Just rest, all right?” Shirabu’s eyelids fluttered but didn’t open, and he turned toward Kuguri’s voice.

“‘N’t ‘ell,” Shirabu sighed.

“Don’t tell who? Ushijima? Sakusa? Miya?” Kuguri asked, looking Miya straight in the eye.

“Any,” Shirabu grumbled. Kuguri’s lips twisted in what might have been a smirk on anyone else, and Miya clenched his fists. Why, why, _why_ did Shirabu trust this...this _nobody_ who had _fucking kidnapped him_ more than he apparently trusted Miya?

“I won’t tell anyone,” Kuguri assured him. “Do you want me to stay?” There was too much amusement in his tone for that to be anything other than a jab at Miya, but what really got to him was the fact that Shirabu nodded. Kuguri obediently laid down, on top of the blankets instead of crawling beneath them, and slung an arm over Shirabu, drawing the human closer and finally looking away from Miya, focusing on Shirabu instead.

Miya took a step back; he knew a dismissal when he saw one, and with his lingering symptoms from feeding Terushima, he didn’t have the energy to object. Miya turned and stumbled to the couch, which he fell onto and sighed. He had his own room at the end of the hall, closest to the rest of the palace, of course, but he didn’t think he had the energy to make it there. Besides, the thought of leaving Shirabu completely alone with Kuguri was...unpleasant, to say the least.


	10. Secrets

Shirabu woke up warm and comfortable, and  _ really, really hungry. _ He stretched, or tried too, but there was an unexpected weight against his side, trapping one of his arms. He frowned and opened his eyes and found that Kuguri had apparently stayed the night, and was curled against his side like an overgrown cat. Shirabu lifted his free hand and ruffled the vampire’s hair. 

“Hey, Kuguri. Wake up,” Shirabu murmured. The vampire stirred, mumbled something that sounded like  _ no _ , and then tucked himself closer against Shirabu, maneuvering so he could press his nose against Shirabu’s jaw. “Kuguri.”

“If you want him gone, I’ll remove him for you.” Shirabu blinked and turned his head, studying Miya as the vampire leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Especially since meeting with him has resulted in you once again needing to be carried to safety.”

“Leave Kuguri alone,” Shirabu grumbled. “He didn’t do anything to you.”

“You’re right. But I’ve put too much work into keeping you alive to let you die from blood loss because you think just giving your blood to whatever nobles might have something you want is a good plan,” Miya snapped. “Honestly, Shirabu, what are you trying to gain from this? Certainly not respect, or you wouldn’t be doing this.” Shirabu scowled and started to reply, but Kuguri lifted his head and frowned at Miya. “What are you looking at? As far as I’m concerned, this is your fault.” 

“Kuguri’s helping me,” Shirabu replied, sitting up and gripping Kuguri’s arm for support as he swayed. “He keeps me safe while I gather information and make deals.”

“You mean while you let any noble who claims to know something put their fangs in you,” Miya countered. Shirabu narrowed his eyes and fought back a shiver; why was the room so  _ cold _ ? And why was Miya so upset about this? “You can’t trust Kuguri, either, especially if you’re paying him with blood, too. Eventually he’ll decide protecting you isn’t worth the effort.”

“Miya,” Kuguri spoke up. “He’s shivering.” Miya fell silent, staring at the trembling human. 

“I am not,” Shirabu hissed, scowling as he attempted to control his body. It wasn’t his fault the room was freezing, and he was too tired to move somewhere warmer.

“He needs food and warmth,” Kuguri said firmly. “And if Yahaba can still do that thing where he somehow makes people regenerate their blood faster, that would be good.” 

“No,” Shirabu protested, teeth chattering. “Don’t tell Yahaba. You promised, Kuguri.” The vampire’s frown deepened, and he shifted the blankets, slipping beneath them and pulling Shirabu against his body. 

“I’ll fetch him something to eat,” Miya said grimly. He wanted to run straight to Sakusa and tell him exactly what Shirabu had been up to, but he had a feeling the human wouldn’t forgive him for that. Miya hesitated, biting his lip. “Shirabu, you need help, or you might not be able to recover fast enough, and then your body will start to shut down.”

“Then tell Yahaba I got attacked again or something,” Shirabu grumbled, snuggling closer to Kuguri’s warmth before he could control himself. “But don’t tell anyone what I’ve been doing.”

“Why not?” Miya demanded. “Sakusa’s your prince, he deserves to know-”

“He’s not,” Shirabu snapped. “I may be a member of his faction, but he’s not the one I’m loyal to and you know it.”

“Ushijima, then,” Miya replied, exasperation showing. “Don’t you think he deserves to know you’re doing this?”

“No,” Shirabu answered bluntly. “It’s my body, my blood. I’ll do whatever I have to do if there’s even a chance it’ll keep him safe.”

“If you get yourself killed doing this, Ushijima will only blame himself!” Miya retorted. “Because who else would you do this for? Kuguri? You barely know him. Sakusa? You just said he’s not your prince. Me? Apparently you can’t even trust me enough to tell me who you’re meeting with or what you’re doing until I notice for myself, so you sure as hell aren’t doing this for anyone other than Ushijima. And he might look like he’s made of stone, but I’ve seen him with Sakusa and that human is absolutely smitten. He’s also got a loyalty to the people around him to match Sakusa’s, which means they’ll both beat themselves up about it if you die trying to help them.”

“You’d get to go back to your whiny, spoiled prince sooner, so why do you care?” Shirabu snapped.

“Because I thought we were  _ friends _ , damn it!” Miya shouted, throwing his hands in the air. Shirabu flinched, then braced himself and glared at the vampire. The effect was mostly lost because the human was still shivering, despite the warmth of Kuguri beside him, but it was enough to make Miya go quiet. “I’ll get you something to eat. I’ll get Yahaba for you, and I’ll keep your secrets. Because maybe if I do that, you’ll finally trust me enough to let me protect you, and help you figure out a better way for you to protect the people you care about. I mean, obviously teaching you how to not get killed and rescuing you from  _ him _ and his friend wasn’t enough, so I guess I’ll just do what earned Yuuji’s trust and be a good little dog or whatever it is you want from me,” Miya added bitterly, shooting a glare at Kuguri before turning toward the door. 

“Miya,” Shirabu started, scrambling out from under the blankets and trying to follow Miya out. 

“Miya, that’s not what I meant. That’s not what I want.” Miya paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Then what do you want, huh?” Miya shook his head as Shirabu stared at him, trying to answer but unable to because his teeth started to chatter and because the human actually wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. “Better figure it out quick, before someone decides what they want is more important and drains every drop of blood you have and leaves you for dead.”

* * *

 

Kohona watched as Semi sparred with another young demon, one who was too new to recognize the former vampire if he were to shift into his human form. Daishou, Konoha thought the young demon’s name was. The guy was slippery, and Konoha didn’t like it, but he was one of the few it was safe for Semi to be around, one of the only ones who wouldn’t recognize his name and accidentally let something slip to the wrong person about Semi being alive, even if it was just as a demon with no memory. Semi slipped past Daishou’s guard and unleashed a flurry of blows on the other demon’s stomach, sending him crumpling to the ground. Konoha wondered if he should try to alter Semi’s fighting style; no matter how much extra power and speed his new demon self lent his attacks, Semi still moved like a vampire - like a court vampire, specifically. That would be hard to hide. With all three of the demons present in their true forms it was even more obvious the difference in their movements, and that worried Konoha almost as much as the fact that Semi’s blood-red streaks on his limbs were still fluctuating. 

“Konoha?” Semi approached him, showing his teeth in a hopeful smile. “How did I do?”

“You’re doing amazingly,” Konoha replied. “You’re not surprised by your own strength anymore, and that’s good.” Semi grinned, then paused. 

“Daishou called you Akinori,” Semi said hesitantly. "Earlier, when we were sparring."

“I don’t know Daishou well, but from what I do know, he’s an asshole Ruki’s been trying to train - you remember Komi, from when you first woke up, right?” Semi nodded, so Konoha continued. “He probably heard my full name from Ruki on accident, and he started using it to try to get under my skin.”

“Does it bother you when people call you Akinori?” Semi questioned, his gaze as sharp and intelligent as when he’d been a vampire. Konoha chuckled, his own rows of fangs flashing. 

“Not if they’re people I trust,” Konoha replied. “I ignore it when Daishou uses it, since he’s just trying to mess with me. Ruki and my friends don’t use Akinori either.” 

“Komi calls you Aki,” Semi mused, his expression calculating as he studied Konoha. “And you don’t count him as a friend. Komi is your lover, isn’t he?” Konoha blinked, then grinned. 

“Yeah, he is. And yes, he does. And even Daishou knows better than to call me that without permission,” Konoha told him. Semi tilted his head. 

“Am I your friend? You said I used to be important to you, and you’ve been training me for weeks now. What am I to you?” Semi asked. Konoha hesitated, then - against his better judgement - reached out and gently rested his talons against Semi’s cheek. 

“I’ll tell you everything once your true form has settled, all right?” Konoha said. Semi frowned, and Konoha added, “For now, let’s leave it at this: you can call me Akinori, or even just Aki if you want.” Semi’s eyes widened. “Now, Daishou looks like he’s gotten back on his feet. You should fix that.” Semi smirked, and this side of him - more confident, a little more reckless, a little more powerful, a little more like a demon instead of a vampire - made Konoha’s heart swell.

“Sure thing, Aki,” Semi replied before turning his attention back to his sparring opponent. Konoha was glad Semi had turned away; he didn’t know what his expression looked like when it registered that Semi had actually used the nickname, but he was pretty sure if Semi had seen it, he would be asking even more questions - questions Konoha wasn’t ready to answer.


	11. Return

“You want me to  _ what _ ?” Yahaba hissed. Miya took a deep breath and braced himself. 

“I want you to come help Shirabu. He was attacked, I don’t know who did it, but he’s low on blood. You can help him recover faster, can’t you?” Miya replied as calmly as he could. 

“Rushing the healing process will only tax his body and my energy,” Yahaba insisted. 

“He can’t stop shaking, he’s upset and stressed and he won’t tell me anything,” Miya said, desperation finally breaking through his forcibly calm tone. “Kuguri’s with him - he brought him back, and Shirabu seems to want to keep him around - and I don’t know how much longer Shirabu can stay conscious and-”

“Fine!” Yahaba interrupted. “From the way you’re babbling and tearing up I’d think it was the Third Prince in trouble, not our little old Shirabu.” Miya gaped at him, but Yahaba just swept past him. “You said Kuguri is with him? I’ll have to fix that. I don’t trust the snake.”

* * *

 

“I thought I’d have to kill you to get you to let go of Shirabu,” Miya commented when Kuguri walked out of Shirabu’s bedroom. 

“He ate already, and Yahaba kicked me out,” Kuguri replied. “Oh, and I got Kenjirou plenty warm while you were fetching things for him. He stopped shivering and everything.” Miya froze. 

“What did you say?” Miya hissed. Kuguri tilted his head, gaze calm bordering on sleepy. 

“I said I warmed him right up,” Kuguri said. 

“You used his name,” Miya snapped. Kuguri’s lips curved upwards smugly. 

“I did. It’s a nice name, don’t you think? Kenjirou,” Kuguri repeated slowly, letting the name roll off his tongue slowly, like he was tasting the syllables. “Kenjirou, Kenjirou, Kenj-” Miya cut off Kuguri’s taunt by snarling and seizing the taller vampire’s throat before slamming him against the wall. 

“You don’t get to call him that,” Miya hissed. Kuguri’s expression suddenly had no trace of any of his usual disinterest. 

“You don’t get to decide who calls him what. You’re too caught up in Terushima to realize that he started this for  _ you _ , and now that you’re focusing on Terushima, he’s just going to push himself more and more until he collapses, again and again, until eventually even Yahaba won’t be able to save him.” Kuguri’s expression was fierce, harsher and full of more determination than Miya had ever seen on him. “ _ Kenjirou _ is the first person to treat me like I have any value, make a deal with me on equal terms, and because of that I’m going to call him whatever he lets me call him, and I’m going to do whatever I can to keep him safe. So what you said earlier about having to kill me to get me away from him? Remember that, because that’s what you’d have to do.” Kuguri surged into motion, gripping Miya’s wrist and digging his thumb in, making Miya hiss and let go of Kuguri’s neck. Miya rubbed his wrist and debated how best to dispose of the other vampire.

“Both of you settle down, or I’ll throw you out of the whole wing,” Yahaba threatened as he emerged from Shirabu’s room. Yahaba glared at them, then sighed. “He insisted he could handle whatever is going on. If he tells either of you who attacked him, I expect you to tell me or Sakusa. I can’t make him tell me, but I swear if either of you lies or withholds information and he gets hurt again, I’m going to tell Ushijima and he will shoot you.” Miya scowled, and Kuguri returned to his usual blank expression. 

“If you say so,” Kuguri said with a bow. “But I don’t think Kenjirou would like me getting shot.” His sidelong glance at Miya lost its sting when Yahaba replied. 

“Then don’t do anything to get yourself shot.” Before Kuguri could reply, Yahaba added, “He wants to talk to both of you. Go on.” Miya and Kuguri glared at each other, then went into Shirabu’s bedroom. The human was propped up on several pillows, and there was a healthier color in his cheeks as he watched them come in. 

“Kuguri, what did you tell Sakishima when we left him?” Shirabu asked instead of greeting them. Kuguri straightened. 

“I told him you would complete the deal once you had recovered,” Kuguri answered. “But I think you should be even more careful handling him the second time around. He might want more than blood, if his wandering hands were anything to go by.” 

“You were making a deal with  _ Sakishima _ ?” Miya hissed. “What information could he possibly offer you? Why would you even try to-”

“He had something I needed. He was willing to deal. That’s the end of it,” Shirabu insisted. “And I do know what I want, but you didn’t give me a chance to say anything. I want to be useful. I want to protect the people I came here to protect, and the friends I made since leaving home. That’s all.” Miya was silent, so Shirabu turned to Kuguri. “Will you take a message to Sakishima for me?” Kuguri nodded, and Shirabu smiled. “Tell him as soon as I’m recovered, I’ll provide his next three meals in return for what we agreed on, and as an apology for collapsing during our negotiation.” 

“Shirabu, you can’t do that!” Miya blurted out. “Sakishima feeds every three days, and he’s not a light drinker even though he’s not exactly a giant. You’ll collapse again if you do that.” Shirabu met Miya’s gaze grimly. 

“I’m perfectly fine with that,” Shirabu replied. “As long as I get what I want from him.” Miya scowled, fists clenching as he struggled to find the words to talk Shirabu out of this idea. Snapping at him hadn’t worked, and neither had reminding him of how dangerous this was. Kuguri moved forward and flopped onto the bed, across Shirabu’s lap. 

“Two meals,” Kuguri said quietly. Shirabu frowned and opened his mouth. “Not for me. For Sakishima. If you really think you need to give him a third, I’ll give him the middle one. Or do him some other favor to make up for it.” Shirabu frowned and carded his fingers through Kuguri’s hair. “Seriously, Kenjirou, you keep me around to protect you and give you advice. Listen to Miya for once. Your body can’t handle feeding Sakishima three times, especially not so soon after you collapsed.” Miya gaped; Kuguri had just used Shirabu’s name in front of the human. Surely he’d say something about it, right? 

“Kenjirou? Really? Do I get to call you Naoyasu then?” Shirabu asked, raising an eyebrow and poking Kuguri’s side. The vampire flopped over onto his back and grimaced up at Shirabu. 

“Please don’t. Hiroo calls me that,” Kuguri replied with a shudder. “And everyone else who wants me to go along with their schemes.” Shirabu hummed thoughtfully. 

“Drakonchik, then,” Shirabu decided, tapping the tip of Kuguri’s nose lightly, making the vampire wrinkle his nose and roll back onto his stomach to avoid another tap. Shirabu grinned and ruffled the vampire’s hair. “Is that okay with you?”

“Call me whatever you want as long as you agree to two meals at the most,” Kuguri answered, twisting to hide his face in Shirabu’s stomach. Miya stared, uneasiness gathering in the back of his mind. Kuguri was far too close to Shirabu, far too quickly, and Miya didn’t like it. 

“All right, all right,” Shirabu conceded, dragging his fingernails lightly over Kuguri’s scalp. Miya swore he heard the usually lazy vampire actually purr at that. “You have a message to deliver, remember, Drakonchik?” Kuguri huffed and lifted his head. 

“If I leave now, Yahaba will probably be waiting outside to interrogate me,” Kuguri pointed out. “Can I stay a little longer?” Shirabu smiled and poked Kuguri’s nose again. 

“If you want to. Yahaba made me promise to stay in bed the rest of the day and to take it easy the next few days, too,” Shirabu sighed. “I would appreciate the company. Yours, too, if you’re not going to nag me about the blood and deals,” he added, glancing at Miya hopefully. Miya shot a look at Kuguri, still stretched out like an overgrown cat across Shirabu’s lap, then sighed. 

“Yeah, I’ll probably be around. Someone’s got to make sure little Drako-whatever behaves,” Miya agreed. Shirabu beamed. 

“Who’s little Drako-whoever?”

Miya jumped and whirled to face the person who had apparently snuck up behind him. Shirabu let out an embarrassing squeak of surprise, and Kuguri somehow managed to turn around and lift himself into a crouch so he was positioned defensively over Shirabu, glaring at their visitor. Miya relaxed when he recognized the person standing there, and Shirabu sighed. 

“Great. Just what this day needed - a visit from the creepy demon,” Shirabu complained. “What do you want, Konoha?”

“I heard Atsumu was training clever little Bu-chan, so I had to come see for myself when I dropped by to check on the other demons staying at the palace,” Konoha answered cheerfully. “Can I ask why the little garter snake is in your bed, Bu-chan?”

“Bu-chan?” Miya repeated incredulously. 

“Garter snake?” Kuguri repeated, frowning. 

“Go away,” Shirabu groaned. 


	12. Resurrection

“But we have so much to talk about,” Konoha pouted. “Like what Sakusa thinks he’s doing endangering Miya with this punishment he’s assigned for Terushima.”

“Aki, it’s fine,” Miya sighed. “Yuuji isn’t upset with me, as far as I can tell.” Konoha narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to reply, but a blood-curdling scream cut him off. Konoha whirled and bolted for the door, Miya on his heels. Kuguri leaped after them, and Shirabu scrambled to follow, only to stumble and nearly fall. Kuguri hissed and darted back to catch him. He considered pushing Shirabu back onto the bed and making him stay there, but Shirabu glared at him like he knew what the vampire was thinking, so Kuguri sighed and wrapped his arm around Shirabu’s waist, supporting him as they followed the others into the hallway.

The scene that waited for them made them all stop dead in their tracks. 

Oikawa was clinging to Iwaizumi, his face pressed against the human’s neck as he gripped his shirt, sobbing incoherently. Iwaizumi had one arm protectively around the hysterical vampire, and in his other hand, he held his gun, pointing it down the hallway at a trio of people who’d apparently just entered Sakusa’s wing. 

One was a vampire noble that Shirabu only knew by sight, recognizable because of his horrendously messy black hair, and he was gaping in shock and probably terror at Oikawa, clearly with no idea as to why the other vampire was so upset or why Iwaizumi was pointing a gun in his direction. He was Lord Kuroo Tetsurou, a high-ranking noble who was one of Sakusa’s allies and rumored to be the one to have found and recruited the quiet little mage who was usually with him, the one who had made the enchanted mask Sakusa had worn when he traveled to the border. 

The other two looked human, but Shirabu recognized them both, and they were supposed to be dead. 

One was Semi Eita, who Shirabu  _ knew _ was dead, because that was the whole reason he and Ushijima were even in the palace. The other was Daishou Suguru, who had been very, very dead the last time Shirabu had seen him, laying in a pool of his own blood after being shot and killed by Iwaizumi. 

“Well, fuck,” Shirabu whispered, drawing his own gun and using Kuguri to pull himself up straighter. 

“Daishou! What are you doing here?” Konoha snarled, stomping down the hallway, completely ignoring the guns and tension. “I  _ know _ Komi hasn’t cleared you to leave the demon realm unattended! And you and I  _ both _ know that Eita isn’t ready to leave either! You take him back right now before I kill you myself!” 

“Akinori?” Miya blurted out. “What...what the hell is Semi doing here? I thought he died!”

“I’ll explain later,” Konoha snapped, stalking right past Kuroo - who still looked a little shell-shocked - and seizing Daishou’s shirt. 

“I mean it,” Konoha hissed, shaking Daishou twice to emphasize his point. “Get him out of here before-”

A strangled little whine made Konoha break off. He froze, then shoved Daishou toward the end of the hallway. 

“Go. Go right now,” Konoha ordered. “Both of you.”

“Aki? What’s-” Semi’s confused question was interrupted by a tentative, shaky voice that came from behind Iwaizumi, the same person who had whined before. 

“Eita? Eita, is that you?” Sakusa whispered. Konoha whirled and found Sakusa standing just behind Iwaizumi and the still-sobbing Oikawa, Ushijima at his side. Semi frowned and reached out to grab Konoha’s sleeve. 

“Aki, what’s going on?” Semi asked quietly. Konoha laid his hand over Semi’s on his arm and squeezed his fingers reassuringly. 

“It’s all right, Eita. You just go back with Daishou, okay?” Konoha urged, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. 

“No one is going anywhere,” Yahaba snapped as he and Kyoutani joined them in the hall, Kyoutani snarling when he recognized Daishou. Sakusa moved forward, past Iwaizumi and Oikawa, gaze fixed on Semi. “Sakusa-”

“He doesn’t remember you!” Konoha snapped, shifting to block Sakusa’s view of Semi. “He doesn’t remember anything. Just let him leave, and I’ll explain, okay?” Ushijima followed Sakusa, reached out and wrapped his arms around Sakusa’s waist, pulling him to a stop. 

“Kyoomi,” Ushijima rumbled. “Stop. Look at him. That is not your Semi.” 

“Of course he’s mine. He’s here, right?” Sakusa replied desperately, squirming in Ushijima’s hold. 

“He doesn’t belong to you! He’s a demon now, and you can’t have him!” Konoha growled, backing up and gently prodding Semi farther down the hall. Sakusa stared at him blankly for a second, processing. 

“Wakatoshi,” Sakusa whispered. Ushijima tensed, pulled Sakusa a little closer. 

“Yes?”

“Let go of me.” For a single instant, it seemed like Ushijima would refuse, would keep holding Sakusa back. Then his arms dropped, and Sakusa moved forward again. Ushijima stayed where he was, expression unreadable. Shirabu glanced worriedly at him, but his attention was caught by Sakusa as the prince spoke again. “Let me see him. Let me talk to him.”

Sakusa stood in front of Konoha, who kept Semi protectively behind him, as out of sight as he could be. Daishou stepped up to Konoha’s side, helping him conceal Semi from view. 

“No. He isn’t yours anymore,” Konoha repeated.

“Get out of my way.” 

“Let him go, Sakusa,” Konoha insisted, meeting the prince’s gaze angrily. “Let him go. You’re already ruined his life and gotten him killed once. Wasn’t that enough for you?”

“I told you to get out of my way,” Sakusa growled, reaching out to push Konoha aside.

“Daishou, true form,” Konoha ordered, flowing into his own easily and grabbing Sakusa’s wrist. Daishou obeyed for once and angled his body to face Kuroo as the vampire lord moved to back up his prince. 

“Sakusa, stop it!” Yahaba called. “Kuroo, Ushijima, one of you do something or I will, consequences be damned!” 

“He needs to at least talk to him,” Kuroo snapped, glaring at the demon blocking his path. “He deserves that closure if nothing else.”

“It won’t stop there, and you know it!” Yahaba snapped. 

“Semi deserves a chance to be his own person.” To everyone’s shock, it was Shirabu who spoke, lowering his gun and staring intently at Sakusa’s back. “Sakusa. I know you miss him. But this isn’t right. You can’t make him face you, or you’re no better than Terushima when he followed you to the border to try to get Yahaba back, completely ignoring the one who was still by his side.”

There was a moment of silence. Miya bowed his head, letting his bangs fall forward to hide his expression. Oikawa’s cries had stopped, although he hadn’t lifted his head away from Iwaizumi’s neck. Iwaizumi kept his gun up, but most of his attention seemed to be on making soothing circles on Oikawa’s back with his other hand. Kuguri tightened his hold on Shirabu, silently supporting him, and Kuroo dropped his gaze to the floor. Sakusa didn’t move.

“Bu-chan really is a clever little bunny,” Konoha mused, glancing away from Sakusa to study the human for a second. 

In that instant, Sakusa struck.

He seized Konoha, threw him sideways into Daishou, and stepped forward to stare down into Semi’s shocked and angry expression. 

“Eita-”

“Don’t call me that,” Semi spat. “Daishou calls me that to annoy me. Komi called me that to ground me and help my form settle. Aki calls me that not because he knew me before I woke up as a demon, but because he’s been training me and I said he could. You...I don’t know you. You aren’t trying to help me. You won’t even listen to your friends back there,” Semi added, glancing over the people arrayed behind Sakusa. “And you tried to hurt Aki.” Semi’s human disguise dropped away, and Sakusa took an involuntary step back as Semi’s true form was revealed, the crimson streaks along his limbs settling into place finally, broad stripes down his arms and legs, with thinner streaks trailing up his neck. The spikes down his spine glowed faintly, and he bared his fangs as he glared up at Sakusa. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t want to. So don’t you dare call me Eita, and don’t you dare try to touch me,” he finished, glancing disdainfully at the hand Sakusa still had half-lifted as though he’d been about to touch Semi’s cheek. 

“Go now,” Konoha snapped, having regained his balance and putting himself once more between Sakusa and Semi. “We’ll talk later, okay?” Semi leaned forward, hugged Konoha tightly for a second, then let go. Semi grabbed Daishou’s wrist and hauled him down the hallway. Kuroo started after them, but Konoha flared his wings, blocking the vampire’s path. Sakusa made a little whine and started forward. Konoha put his hand out, stopping the vampire prince with a palm pressed warningly to his chest, talons poised to dig into his flesh. “Touch them and I’ll kill you. Try and I’ll mostly kill you.”

“Michimiya would have to let us execute you if you did,” Kuroo snapped. Konoha kept his gaze fixed on Sakusa as he replied. 

“So be it. Eita doesn’t remember me, either. He’d be fine if I died. But he won’t be fine if you force him to remember his former life, or if you try to get him back,” Konoha said steadily. 

“Let him go,” Shirabu spoke up. “If you go after him now you’ll only make him resent you.” He paused, then added, “Besides. You have Ushijima. Isn’t that enough?” 

Sakusa didn’t answer. 

“Konoha,” Iwaizumi spoke next. “We’re going to need some answers.” Oikawa shuddered and pressed closer to Iwaizumi, still trembling. “About Semi, and about the person who was with him.” 

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, on two conditions,” Konoha replied. Yahaba frowned and tried to speak, but Konoha continued, “One, no one goes after Eita or Daishou. They’re off limits. And two, Kuroo can’t be there. I won’t give him the satisfaction of finally hearing me give up information about other demons.”

“You just can’t let that go, can you?” Kuroo sneered. Konoha laughed. 

“That’s rich, coming from someone who tortures people on the orders of a prince who can’t even let his dead lover rest in peace,” the demon sneered. 

“Enough.” Sakusa’s gaze was fixed on the empty hallway behind Konoha, where Semi and Daishou had been a moment before. “I agree to your terms. Wakatoshi, let’s-” Sakusa turned to look at his contractor, only to find that Ushijima wasn’t there anymore. Sakusa frowned.

“Why don’t you talk to Konoha without Ushijima?” Yahaba suggested. “I’ll check on him, and ask Oikawa for the details later.” Sakusa nodded slowly, and Yahaba took Kyoutani’s hand and led him into one of the rooms farther down the hall, the room that technically belonged to Ushijima, but as far as Shirabu knew, the contractor hadn’t used it in the two weeks since they’d arrived at the palace. 

“Kuroo, go inform the First Princess of what happened,” Sakusa ordered. “Miya-”

“Akinori is my friend, and so is Shirabu. So was Semi,” Miya said, ducking his head. “I want to hear what Akinori has to say.” Sakusa stared at him for a second, then sighed. 

“Fine. Kuguri-”

“I’m staying with Kenjirou,” Kuguri said plainly.

“Shirabu should rest anyway,” Miya added. “I’ll tell Shirabu what Akinori says afterwards.” Sakusa accepted this with a nod and stalked toward his rooms without another word. 

“I want to go with them,” Shirabu complained. Kuguri gently plucked the human’s gun out of his hold and slipped it into its holster, then scooped Shirabu up easily and carried him back into his rooms. 

“No. You can barely stand, and you can’t walk. You need to take it easy,” Kuguri insisted. 

“My sleepy Drakonchik grew a backbone,” Shirabu observed. Kuguri didn’t answer. Unless of course dropping Shirabu onto his bed counted as an answer. 


	13. Scrapes

Yahaba paused in the doorway of the rooms that technically belonged to Ushijima, despite the fact that he’d been living in Sakusa’s suite, so the rooms hadn’t been touched in two weeks. Yahaba was about to step farther in when he heard a sharp thud. Yahaba glanced at Kyoutani, then hurried inside. 

“Ushijima? Are you okay?” Yahaba called as he scanned the room. Nothing in the living area. There was another noise, and Yahaba followed it to the bedroom. “Ushijima?” The human stood facing the wall, hands at his sides. Yahaba frowned, noticing blood on Ushijima’s hand. He crossed the room and took the hunter’s hand, holding it up to examine it. Ushijima’s knuckles were raw, the skin broken in several places, bruises forming on what skin was visible beneath the blood. Yahaba sighed and glanced at Kyoutani. “Can you fetch a first aid kit? There’s one-”

“In our room, under the desk,” Kyoutani finished. “I’ll get it.” He left, and Yahaba returned his attention to Ushijima. 

“You heard what Sakusa said - or didn’t say, I guess,” Yahaba mused. Ushijima pulled his hand back and turned away. 

“I do not know what you mean. How could I hear something if Sakusa did not say it?” Ushijima questioned. Yahaba noticed that there was a sizeable hole in the wall, which hadn’t been there before and had traces of Ushijima’s blood in it. 

“You heard Shirabu ask Sakusa if having you was enough for him. Sakusa didn’t answer,” Yahaba pointed out. Ushijima didn’t look at him. Instead, the human’s attention was on the wall. 

“I fail to see your point,” Ushijima said quietly. 

“I know it must have hurt, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Sakusa’s silence meant exactly what it sounded like,” Ushijima said stiffly. Yahaba almost winced; he hadn’t realized how open Ushijima’s expression and voice had become over the last two weeks until he turned to face Yahaba, his voice and eyes flat and unfeeling. “But whether his words - or lack thereof - upset me or not is none of your concern. Even if it was, you could rest assured that Sakusa’s silence did not hurt me. It is not my place to be hurt by things the Second Prince does or does not say.” Yahaba felt his jaw dropping open. Ushijima had been calling the prince Kyoomi since they were contracted. Now, all of a sudden, he wasn’t using Sakusa’s given name anymore. And then there was what Ushijima had actually said…

“What do you mean, it’s not your place?” Yahaba snapped. “It’s not about place. If you’re upset-”

“Then I will deal with that on my own. If I were upset, I would have no reason to be,” Ushijima informed him woodenly. “I have always known that Sakusa does not like me, and he does not trust me of his own volition. I was simply the least untrustworthy person at the time.”

“But-”

“Sakusa did not choose me to be his new companion, Yahaba.” Ushijima didn’t give him time to interrupt again. “He chose me to fill the void Semi left behind when he died, and that is all I asked of him - to let me try to fill some of that emptiness. So obviously now that Sakusa is aware that Semi has apparently survived as a demon, I am not enough to fill that role, and I was never meant to be. I am a placeholder. That is all I ever have been, and all I will ever be.” There was a bit of hesitation in that last part, so slight that Yahaba almost thought he imagined it. 

“Got the first aid kit,” Kyoutani announced, reentering the room with a box under one arm. 

“Thank you, Kentarou,” Yahaba replied, not taking his eyes off of Ushijima as he heard Kyoutani move to the bed to set the box down and then open it to browse its contents. “We need to get your hand bandaged, Ushijima.”

“If you insist. But I do not think it matters,” Ushijima replied flatly. “Though I suppose my value is in my blood, so I should not waste it with pointless injuries.” 

“That is  _ not _ why we’re patching you up!” Kyoutani growled, handing a roll of bandages to Yahaba, who blinked in surprise. Kyoutani dampened a cloth from the kit with antiseptic - Yahaba almost winced in sympathy for Ushijima - and then seized Ushijima’s injured hand and unceremoniously pressed the cloth to his scraped and bruised knuckles. Ushijima didn’t flinch, but his lips pressed into a straight line as he resisted the urge to do so. 

“What Kentarou means is that you’re more than just your blood. You’re more than just a placeholder. Sakusa trusts you, more than he trusts anyone else,” Yahaba explained. Ushijima wordlessly pulled his hand away from Kyoutani and held it out to Yahaba, who sighed and started wrapping the bandage around his knuckles. “Sakusa isn’t Terushima. People aren’t just toys to him. You’re not Semi, and Sakusa knows that.”

“Did Sakusa frequently have Semi on his lap during meetings?” Ushijima asked. Yahaba finished bandaging Ushijima’s hand and frowned.  

“Yes, but-”

“Did he feed from Semi’s neck and get extremely cuddly afterwards?”   
“Yes, but-”

“He called Semi by his given name, establishing his trust and intimacy with Semi to anyone who heard him called that way. He was possessive of Semi, and extremely protective.” Ushijima’s words weren’t questions anymore. “He trusted Semi, but he also treated him like a status symbol and showed him off, especially around the other nobles.”  Yahaba was silent. “I am Sakusa’s replacement for Semi, a plaything to take up space and attention until he finds someone he trusts more, someone he actually wants, and then he will have you shift his contract to that person. And I am content with my place. Thank you for this,” Ushijima added, holding up his injured hand before turning on his heel and marching toward the door. 

“Where are you going?” Yahaba asked. 

“To Sakusa’s side. I should not have left him unattended, especially when I had no reason to not be near him,” Ushijima replied evenly. Then he was gone, leaving Yahaba staring after him.

“He sounds like Miya,” Yahaba said softly. “He doesn’t think Sakusa values him. And he’s beginning to only value himself in relation to Sakusa.”

“That’s horrible,” Kyoutani growled, slowly packing up the first aid kit. He paused, then snatched the remaining bandages from Yahaba’s limp grasp and shoved them into the box. “Ushijima was the strongest hunter besides Iwaizumi. He shouldn’t see himself so low.”

“But he failed,” Yahaba reminded him. “He failed to protect Sakusa, and keep his hunters safe, and he failed to realize the contractor was one of his own. That plus being used as a replacement for Semi…” Kyoutani scowled. 

“We have to do something.”

“Like what? There’s no one to move the contract to, and while Sakusa trusts me enough to keep me in his faction, he doesn’t use my given name much unless it’s to piss off Terushima, so I can’t seek him out and give him advice,” Yahaba sighed. 

“Shirabu,” Kyoutani said. “He snapped at Sakusa before, and he’s not afraid of him. Let’s get Shirabu to handle it.” Yahaba blinked at him for a moment. 

“I like the way you think. Sakusa probably won’t hurt Shirabu either, especially when he’s still weak from being attacked again,” Yahaba agreed. “Let’s do it.”


	14. Unravel

Yahaba strode into Shirabu’s room and stopped in his tracks when he saw Kuguri sprawled on his stomach across Shirabu’s lap as the human sat on his bed, comfortably relaxing against his pillows. 

“Why is the snake still here?” Yahaba asked with a frown. Shirabu narrowed his eyes.

“My Drakonchik is here because he wants to make sure I rest. Apparently he’s worried about me,” Shirabu replied, ruffling Kuguri’s hair. The vampire hummed and eyed Yahaba warily even as he leaned into Shirabu’s touch. 

“You trust him?” Yahaba asked. 

“You asked me that when you were working your magic to help my blood regenerate faster,” Shirabu muttered. “The answer is still yes. Why? What did you come here for?”

“Sakusa’s hurt Ushijima. Not physically,” Yahaba clarified hastily as he saw Shirabu reach for his gun. “And I don’t think it was even on purpose. But I want to make Sakusa realize that dismissing Ushijima won’t do either of them any good in the long run.”

“It’s not doing either of them any good in the short run either,” Shirabu muttered. Kuguri nodded his agreement, then scooted farther up Shirabu’s lap, pressing his side closer to the human.

“True. But Kentarou and I have an idea. We might be able to jolt Sakusa into realizing the same thing,” Yahaba told him.

“And you think this will help Ushijima?” Shirabu asked. 

“If it works, yes.”

“Then I’m in. What do you have in mind?”

* * *

 

“Start talking, demon,” Sakusa ordered, whirling to face Konoha as soon as they were in Sakusa’s rooms. Konoha sighed and took the seat closest to the door, sparing a worried glance at Oikawa and Iwaizumi as they settled on the couch nearby. 

“First of all, Eita doesn’t remember anything from his previous life, except for his name and a secondary form that feels right to him - the way he looked before becoming a demon. That’s normal for our kind, by the way. It usually takes time, encounters with places or people from our old lives, or all of the above to recover even the slightest memory of who we were before we became demons. It took me over a century for me to get more than a few hazy impressions of my old life,” Konoha explained. He glanced at Oikawa again and added, “That’s why Daishou had no idea why you freaked out like that when you saw him - it was Daishou that made you freak out, right?” Oikawa nodded shakily, and Konoha continued, “That’s also why young demons typically don’t leave the demon realm until they’re fully settled. Remembering who they used to be - especially if the memory is triggered when they’re outside the demon realm - can unbalance their sense of self and cause them to unravel.”

“Unravel?” Sakusa growled. “What-”

“It’s difficult to explain in abstract, so here’s a specific situation. If Eita remembers that he was a vampire, if he remembers  _ you _ , then his old self will emerge, conflicting with his current, unstable self. His mind would tear itself apart, and his body wouldn’t last much longer. So I’m sure you understand why I sent Eita and Daishou home,” Konoha added, shooting a pointed glare at Sakusa. 

“And here I thought that was just you being petty because you couldn’t have him when he was a vampire,” Sakusa muttered. 

“Speaking of being petty, where’s your human?” Konoha countered. “Shouldn't he be sprawled across your lap like a pet or something?”

“Don't talk about him like that,” Sakusa snapped. Konoha raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh? And I suppose you'll stop me? Why? As far as I can tell, the human means nothing to you. You couldn't even answer Bu-chan when he asked if the brawny human was enough for you. So why should you care what I say about him - what anyone says about him?” the demon sneered. 

“Wakatoshi belongs to me. Of course I care what-”

“Does he? Does he really?” Konoha interrupted, meeting Sakusa’s gaze steadily. “Because from what I've seen, your human is only yours while you mourn Eita. And eventually you'll move on, pick a different human, or Shigeru will figure out a way to do the impossible and free you from your contract completely. And you'll cast that poor loyal human aside. Or worse, you'll keep around, but only for good. Which is basically what you're doing now, so-”

“Enough,” Miya spoke up. “Akinori, why did Semi come back as a vampire?” Konoha seemed reluctant to let the subject of Ushijima go, but sighed and allowed Miya to redirect the conversation.

“He didn’t. Eita never really left. See, if a being’s mind, or their spirit, or soul, or whatever you want to call it...if they meet certain conditions at the time of death, there’s a chance they can stay as demons. For humans, like Daishou used to be, it depends on their perception of demons. Most humans see us as evil, so if they’re doing something other humans would consider evil at the time of their death, they’ll stick around. For vampires...one common way for a vampire to become a demon is if they die with a contract in place, especially a contract they wanted out of. Any sentient creature can become a demon if they have enough conflict within them, usually a conflict between a need to escape their circumstances and a need to remain for something. An unwilling contract is an extreme and more binding version of this conflict.” Konoha paused and glanced at Oikawa and Iwaizumi, who looked unusually grim, then at Sakusa, whose expression was pure guilt. “Becoming a demon is a compromise: an escape in the form of no memories, and their essence surviving and staying.”

“So Eita-”

“He told you not to call him that,” Konoha interrupted.

“Now you really are just being-”

“Petty? Not this time. I’m just trying to respect Eita’s wishes - something you’ve never been able to do, and something you still can’t do for that human you’ve brought here. He knows you don’t really care about him. I could see it in his eyes when he slipped away from you earlier,” Konoha snapped. Sakusa opened his mouth like he wanted to protest. 

“It’s true. Ushijima knows you don’t care about him,” Yahaba announced, striding into the room with Shirabu at his side. Kuguri shadowed the human, watching for any sign he might wobble or fall so he could jump forward to support him if needed. Kyoutani brought up the rear, his usual scowl firmly in place. Yahaba continued into the middle of the room, drawing everyone’s attention and holding it as he spoke. “And having been in the position of someone watching a prince they’re devoted to not caring about them, I can’t allow Ushijima to stay in that situation. Sakusa, I’m going to transfer your contract to Shirabu temporarily, at least until I can find another human to take on your contract. Ushijima will not go through-”

“You can’t take him away.” Sakusa’s voice was uncharacteristically small. Everyone in the room went completely silent. “You can’t. I need him.” 

“You didn’t need him when you were trying to get to the demon who used to be Semi,” Yahaba responded coldly. Shirabu stepped up beside the blood mage. 

“Don’t worry, Sakusa. I’ll take good care of you, since Ushijima wants you to be safe,” Shirabu promised. 

“You stay away from me,” Sakusa hissed, baring his fangs. “I don’t trust you.” 

“You trust Ushijima,” Miya spoke up. Shirabu shot a glance at Miya, attempting to warn him to stay quiet, but Miya just met his gaze for a moment, then turned back to Sakusa, and Shirabu realized Miya had caught on to what Yahaba was doing. “But you completely ignored him as soon as Eita - sorry, Semi, since he’s his own person now, and doesn’t know any of us - appeared, even though you knew full well that Semi is dead. Even when he said he didn’t want to even hear you say his name, you didn’t think about Ushijima again until Semi was gone.”

“That’s the same shit Terushima pulled on me,” Yahaba added grimly. “And like I said, I won’t let Ushijima go through that.” Sakusa was quiet for a moment, so quiet that Shirabu worried he would either break down or lash out if anyone spoke or even breathed wrong. 

“You’re right,” Sakusa whispered. “You’re right. Eita’s gone. The demon...Semi...isn’t him. As much as I want him to be...he’s not. I let my own hopes and regrets blind me. I still am letting them blind me. But don’t...don’t take Wakatoshi away. I could stop you...kill you before you had the chance. But there’s been enough pain, enough death.” Sakusa’s lip trembled as he took a deep breath. “Don’t take him from me, Yahaba. Because no matter what you seem to think, or what impression I may have given, I do need him.”

“Then convince him of that,” Yahaba replied coldly. “Or I really will move your contract to someone else, consequences be damned. Understood?” Sakusa nodded silently. “Good. Now, you’ve gotten your answers from Akinori, so I think it’s time we let him get home.”

“So you’ve made your move and now you want any potential casualties out of the way?” Kuguri murmured. Yahaba shot an irritated look at him, but Kuguri ignored him. 

“You’re right. Konoha, you’re free to go. Just...promise me one thing,” Sakusa said. Konoha tilted his head curiously. “Take better care of Ei... _ Semi _ than I did.” Konoha studied the prince for a moment, then bowed. 

“I plan to,” Konoha replied. “But not because you told me to.” Sakusa didn’t answer, so Konoha strode out of the room, pausing only to glance at Miya and add, “I’ll be back to check on you and the others soon.” Then he was gone. 

“The rest of you are dismissed,” Sakusa sighed. The others hesitated for a moment, then headed for the door. “Oh, Yahaba.” The blood mage paused, and Sakusa focused on him, expression completely empty, perfectly emotionless. “If you so much as think about threatening to take Wakatoshi from me again, I will kill you. If you were to actually succeed, I would not make that death quick or painless. And I’d have your human lover’s head to decorate your funeral pyre.” Yahaba stiffened, then nodded and left quickly, dragging Kyoutani with him. Sakusa turned his back to the door, refusing to watch them file out. Their footsteps faded, and everything was quiet for a few long moments. 

“Sakusa.” The voice was familiar, but Sakusa frowned at the form of address. He turned and saw Ushijima in the doorway as he had expected. What Sakusa hadn’t expected, however, were the bandages on his hands and the stiff, formal set to his shoulders and chin. “I apologize for leaving you unattended, and for not returning to your side sooner. I needed to sort a few things out.” Sakusa studied him, taking in the tension in the human’s posture. The prince crossed the room, reached out to touch Ushijima’s cheek. The former hunter didn’t move, either to duck away or to lean into the touch. “There is no one here to put on appearances for, your Highness. You do not have to pretend to care for me. I will be standing guard at the entrance to your rooms.” Ushijima stepped back, and Sakusa was frozen in place, hand still lifted. 

“Wakatoshi...that’s-”

“Did you need something else, your Highness?” Ushijima turned back, his expression just as neutral as ever. Sakusa dropped his hand, opened his mouth, closed it again, debating what to say. 

“Wakatoshi, you’re the only person I can trust completely,” Sakusa said finally, fighting to keep his voice from shaking. Ushijima inclined his head slightly. 

“I am sure there will soon be many people eager to fix that. All you have to do is choose one, or two, or however many you require in order to feel at ease. Whether I remain among the number of people you trust or not, I will do my duty and protect you until you send me away or I die. You should relax while you can. It seems whatever answers Konoha was able to give you did not set your mind to rest. If you need anything, I will be-”

“You,” Sakusa blurted out. Ushijima’s eyes widened the tiniest bit, just enough for Sakusa to notice. “That’s all I need right now. Will you stay with me? You can protect me better if you’re beside me, right?” Ushijima was silent, apparently considering Sakusa’s request. The prince reached out, caught the edge of Ushijima’s shirt. “Please?” Ushijima stayed where he was for a few more seconds, then moved forward, sliding his arms around the prince, who tensed in his arms, surprised that the human had taken the initiative for once. Then Sakusa went limp, Ushijima holding him up, gathering the prince against his chest and letting him cling to the human’s warmth, to the safety and support he offered. 

“As you wish,” Ushijima murmured, his words nearly lost as Sakusa’s shoulders shook and his breath caught in the beginnings of a sob. “Until the day you find someone else.” 


	15. Demons

Konoha crossed his arms and scowled at Daishou, who widened his eyes innocently. 

“What were you thinking?” Konoha hissed, resisting the urge to shift to his true form and claw Daishou’s eyes out. “You could’ve gotten both of you killed!”

“We would’ve been fine if that vampire lord hadn’t seen us,” Daishou muttered. 

“Kuroo is not the only person in that palace who would recognize Eita! Literally  _ every single person  _ in that damned palace knows who he is! You’re just lucky Kuroo brought you to Sakusa instead of torturing you to find out why you were trespassing with someone who was supposed to be dead!” Konoha snarled. 

“I thought-”

“You didn’t think,” Konoha interrupted. “Because if you had, you would have stayed here like you were supposed to, and you wouldn’t have put yourself or Eita in danger.” Konoha studied him for a long moment. “Go home, Daishou. Komi will be back soon; I already sent someone to replace him protecting Michimiya. He and I will decide what to do with you when he gets back. And send Eita in when you leave.” Konoha closed his eyes, leaned back, and waited. He expected Semi’s voice to greet him. Instead, a light touch on his cheek made his eyes fly open. 

“Aki,” Semi murmured, stretching up to nuzzle along Konoha’s jaw. Konoha stiffened and grabbed Semi’s wrist when the younger demon reached for his hip. 

“Eita. What exactly are you doing?” Konoha asked, forcing his voice to stay steady. Semi blinked up at him innocently and dropped his hand from Konoha’s cheek to his chest. 

“I can call you Aki but I can't try to help you relax?” Semi asked, his lower lip sticking out slightly in the beginnings of a pout. Konoha studied him, frowning.

“This isn't like you, Eita,” Konoha said quietly. 

“Maybe not this version of me,” Semi agreed, sliding his hand down Konoha’s chest until Konoha caught that wrist too.

“The old you never acted like this, either. Not with me,” Konoha replied, eyes narrowing. “Did you remember something?” Semi looked away, bit his lip. “Eita-”

“I remembered a little. Not much. Just…” Semi hesitated, glanced up, saw the concern in Konoha’s eyes. “I remember...touching someone. Kissing them. I remember the taste of blood. I remember loving someone so much it hurt.” Semi was shaking, his eyes watering as the words poured out of his mouth. “I don't remember who it was. I've tried. But I can't remember specifics. Just...sensations. And I hoped...I thought maybe it was you. You said I was important to you. You know. Before.” Semi’s words caught in his throat, and a little hiccup escaped his lips. “And you said I could call you Aki. So I. I thought maybe. But I guess not.” 

Konoha’s grip on Semi’s wrists fell away as his hands dropped in surprise. 

“I wish you were right,” Konoha admitted, reaching up to card his fingers through Semi’s hair. “I've loved you for a long time, Eita. But you never saw me as anything but a friend, and I could never hurt you by admitting it to you. You never once doubted your feelings, and I never wanted you to.” Semi fell forward, against his chest, and Konoha sighed and wrapped his arms around him. “And even if you and I had been lovers once upon a time, I couldn't hurt Haruki by touching you. He deserves better, and I love him just as much as I love you.”

“You know who it was, don't you? Who I remember?” Semi whispered, voice muffled as he refused to lift his head. 

“Yeah, I do,” Konoha agreed. “And if you want to know, I'll tell you. I noticed your true form had settled when we were in the palace. So any questions you have, I'll answer as best I can.”

“You did promise,” Semi replied, a shaky laugh escaping his lips. Konoha smiled a little and rested his chin on top of Semi’s head. 

“Yeah I did. But first, tell me something. Why did you and Daishou leave the demon realm?” Konoha asked. Semi didn't answer right away, choosing to tentatively slide his arms around Konoha’s waist first. 

“I wanted to see what you were doing. I wanted to see where you were. I missed you. And Daishou agrees to take me, so…” Semi trailed off, and Konoha sighed and stroked through his hair gently. 

“That was dangerous. I would have brought you with me if it was safe. Promise me you won't leave the demon realm without an older demon - and Daishou doesn't count - to make sure you don't end up somewhere you shouldn't,” Konoha urged. Semi hesitated, then nodded. 

“I promise.” Semi stepped back and stared up at him. “Now, about who I remembered…”

* * *

 

_ “Moniwa says I’m gonna be the Palace Commander’s seeker. But if I go with him, I won’t be able to come visit you, since you’re human…so I was wondering... would you let me turn you into a vampire?” _

 

_ Screams, louder and more heartbreaking than anything he’d heard from that person’s mouth before. He almost regretted changing him into a vampire - he hadn’t known the transformation would be this long, or this painful - and he couldn’t bear the choked cries anymore.  _

 

_ “Don’t hurt him! You can’t hurt him, please, I’ll do anything! It’s not his fault!” _

_ “You know the laws. He was turned without permission from the royals. He must die.” _

_ “No! I just didn’t want to lose him, you have to understand! Please, he won’t hurt anyone!” _

_ “Kill him.” _

_ “No!” _

_ “Don’t worry. You’ll follow him soon.” _

* * *

 

The demon stepped out of his portal and bowed, grinning to himself as he saw he’d ended up in exactly the right room. 

“Accurate as always. Well done,” Komi congratulated him when he straightened, reaching up to clap him on the shoulder. 

“All thanks to your training, I’m sure,” he replied easily. Then he turned to the woman who stood watching him, hands on her hips, lips pursed.

“You’re a former vampire. Are you sure no one will recognize you here?” she asked. The demon shrugged. 

“Konoha seemed pretty sure they wouldn’t. I mean, he’s spent almost as much time as you have at the palace, and he never saw me before Komi brought me up as a candidate to be your guard,” the demon assured her. 

“Good. Because I’ve had enough of young demons apparently showing up without any of the vampires they used to associate with knowing they’re alive,” she sighed. “Kiyoko’s pretty on edge too, so that’s even worse.” She shook her head and held out a hand. “I’m Michimiya Yui, your new boss.” The demon took her hand and bowed once more, this time brushing his lips across her knuckles. 

“It’s an honor to serve you,” he said cheerfully as he looked up to meet her unimpressed gaze. He dropped her hand and added, “I’m Futakuchi Kenji, and I’ll be standing in for Konoha while he deals with whatever mess he’s gotten himself into this time.”


	16. Message

Kuguri hurried down the hall, anxious to get to Sakishima, arrange for the payment Kuguri and Shirabu had agreed on for Sakishima’s political support, and get back to Shirabu. Kuguri trusted Miya to keep Shirabu safe, in theory. But he still didn’t want to leave the human alone too long with a vampire whose loyalty would always be to Terushima. 

“You’re awfully pretty. Who’s faction are you part of?” Kuguri ignored the unfamiliar voice and kept walking. “Aw, come on. What’s your name? Hey, wait up!” The person was following him. Kuguri considered his options. He could continue ignoring the voice and hope the voice’s owner gave up. Or he could engage the voice and therefore the voice’s owner in conversation, potentially encouraging further contact but possibly ending the irritation of being followed and talked to by a stranger much more quickly. “I’m new here; maybe you could-”

“I already have one political infant relying on me, I have no need for a second,” Kuguri snapped, turning to face the stranger. He paused, frowned. That person...wasn’t a vampire. He had fangs, sure, but something about the way he moved wasn’t right. It was like...like a human shape wasn’t the proper one for him. 

“You’re a demon. I’ve had enough of demons for the day,” Kuguri announced, starting to turn away again, only for the demon to slip in front of him and grin.

“Come on, can you just talk to me for a second? I don’t know anyone here, and my new boss told me to look around and meet people, so-”

“Go meet other people,” Kuguri replied curtly. He stepped around the demon, only for the creature to get in front of him again. 

“I want to meet you,” the demon told him, leaning into Kuguri’s space. The demon was taller than him, although just barely. Kuguri hoped the demon hadn’t noticed, because people always seemed to enjoy being taller than him for some reason, and they usually tried to talk to him more. 

“You’re met me. Mission accomplished. Now let me deliver the message I’ve been asked to-”

“You’re a messenger? Who do you work for? I bet it’s someone important, since you’re so cute,” the demon mused. Kuguri scrunched his nose in distaste. “Okay, I can tell that’s not a happy expression, but that is adorable.”

“I hate you,” Kuguri informed the demon. 

“You don’t even know me,” he protested. Kuguri scrunched his face more. “My name’s Futakuchi Kenji. I’m Michimiya’s new guard.”

“And see? Now I know you. I can hate you now, right?” Kuguri asked. The demon pouted at him, and Kuguri refused to even think about that expression. 

“Not until you tell me your name,” Futakuchi replied happily. “I should at least get to know the name of the person who now hates me, right?” Kuguri sighed; just like Hiroo, this demon wouldn’t leave him alone until he got what he wanted. 

“My name is Kuguri Naoyasu. I don’t have a faction affiliation. And I’m a minor noble, not a messenger,” he informed the demon. Futakuchi grinned and snatched his hand before Kuguri could move past him. Futakuchi bowed, a smirk playing on his lips as he pressed them to the back of Kuguri’s hand. “If you’re quite finished?” Kuguri prompted, tugging his hand away from Futakuchi and keeping his expression neutral even as his mind swirled. Did the demon miss the ‘minor’ part of his introduction? Kuguri wasn’t someone to be bowed to, wasn’t someone who had his hand kissed by people. That was...princesses. The Fourth and Fifth usually, since the First might kill anyone who tried to get that close to her. Princes sometimes, if a noble was feeling particularly bold, but Sakusa didn’t let people touch him, and Terushima usually accepted much more intimate and less respectful kisses. But never a minor noble like Kuguri. 

“I suppose I am finished. I’d like the chance to convince you not to hate me, though,” Futakuchi told him. Kuguri wrinkled his nose again and stepped around him. Sakishima’s room wasn’t far, and he had a message to deliver. 

“Kuguri, I’ve been expecting you. How’s the human doing?” Sakishima asked when Kuguri slipped into his rooms. 

“He’s awake, and he sent me with an apology and a message,” Kuguri answered, bowing deeply. “Kenjirou will give you two whole meals in return for the support he discussed with you before, and I will do you a favor as well.” Kuguri started to straighten, only for Sakishima to grip his hair and hold him where he was, bent almost in half. Kuguri bit his lip and blinked fiercely for a moment, controlling his reaction to the pain as Sakishima twisted his hair. 

“I agree to the two meals. But what sort of favor are you planning to give me, hm?” Sakishima practically cooed. 

“Whatever you want,” Kuguri replied evenly. “For one hour, between the meals Kenjirou gives you.” Sakishima hummed, apparently not convinced. Before Kuguri could figure out what to say to convince him, Sakishima twisted. His grip on Kuguri’s hair shifted, making him wince, and then a blow to the back of his knees made them buckle, and he hissed as he fell to a kneeling position. 

“Just one hour? You’ll have to make it worth it,” Sakishima mused, yanking on Kuguri’s hair, forcing his head back and making his eyes water. “You will though, won’t you? Hiroo and the others have been using you for their schemes and convenience for how long now? That human seems to treat you better than a nobody like you deserves, though. I bet you eat that right up, don’t you? So whatever he wants you to do, you’ll do, even if it’s worse than what anyone else ever wanted from you. I bet you’d let me carve up this pretty face of yours, wouldn’t you? You’re so quiet about everything, but I bet you scream nicely.” Kuguri felt his face pale against his will. Potential torture hadn’t exactly been what he was expecting, and he knew Shirabu didn’t even know what Kuguri  _ had  _ expected, and if Shirabu knew he wouldn’t have accepted Kuguri doing this ‘favor’. 

“I said an hour of whatever you want, Lord Sakishima,” Kuguri replied steadily. 

“You did, didn’t you?” Sakishima seemed pleased, and Kuguri thought maybe he’d get to leave, but Sakishima leaned over him and yanked at his hair again, apparently not finished with watching the way Kuguri flinched and teared up no matter how hard he tried to stay neutral. 

“Hey, I can’t find my way to- I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” Kuguri tensed. That was…

“Who the fuck are you?” Sakishima hissed, releasing Kuguri’s hair and stepping back. 

“Ah, sorry. I’m Futakuchi, Michimiya’s new guard. I was looking for directions to-”

“Get out,” Sakishima snarled. Futakuchi hesitated, eyes wide and confused. 

“Please, I just want-”

“Kuguri will show you,” Sakishima growled, kicking halfheartedly at Kuguri’s thigh. Kuguri hastily rose to his feet and moved toward the door. “I’ll contact that human about the times for the payments once he’s up and about again.” 

“ _ That human _ has a name, you know,” Kuguri muttered. “You should remember it if you’re going to be making deals with him.” 

“That  _ sniveling worm _ is a bloodsack whose only value is in letting other people do what they want to him and he knows it,” Sakishima sneered. Kuguri clenched his fists and started to turn back toward Sakishima. “You’re no better, so keep your mouth shut and get that monster out of my sight,” he added, flapping a hand dismissively at Futakuchi. There was a heartbeat of silence, and then Kuguri’s lips pulled back in a feral snarl as he whirled on Sakishima. Futakuchi lunged forward and threw his arms around Kuguri, pinning the vampire’s arms to his side. 

“Don’t be an idiot. Surely your human, whoever he is, doesn’t want you to get hurt,” Futakuchi hissed. Kuguri growled, a low, terrifying sound that had Sakishima taking a step back and Futakuchi rethinking his actions in getting so close to the vampire. 

“I won’t be the one getting hurt. Let go of me,” Kuguri snapped. Futakuchi briefly wondered if it was possible for a demon to have a death wish, since demons had already died once and all, then shrugged and tightened his hold on the vampire. 

“Won’t it cause trouble for the human if you get in a fight with this guy?” Futakuchi tried. Kuguri was silent for a moment, then went limp and nodded reluctantly. Futakuchi hesitantly released Kuguri, and the vampire turned on his heel and stalked out of the room without another word. Futakuchi shot one last glance at Sakishima, and was tempted to cross the room and wipe the smug little smirk off his face himself, but turned and followed Kuguri instead. 


	17. Almost

Shirabu watched Kuguri leave the room, then turned to Miya.

“So, are you going to lecture me about making deals with Sakishima again?” Shirabu asked. Miya sighed and shook his head, then scrambled to grab Shirabu’s arm and hold him up as his knees started to buckle. 

“Come on. I’m taking you to bed,” Miya sighed. 

“How forward of you,” Shirabu teased. Miya rolled his eyes and shifted his hold, sliding an arm around Shirabu’s waist. 

“Not as forward as Kuguri suddenly calling you Kenjirou,” Miya countered, trying to ignore how easily Shirabu let himself be tucked against Miya’s side for support, which was made more difficult as Miya realized he really,  _ really _ liked the way Shirabu’s given name felt on his lips. 

“Drakonchik just needs to feel like he belongs,” Shirabu hummed as Miya guided him into the bedroom and toward the bed. “I’ve put a lot of trust in him the last couple of weeks, and he hasn’t let me down once. So I’m happy to keep him close and do what I can to make sure he feels safe and valued.” Shirabu tilted his head, trying to study Miya. “You know, you could go pay a visit to your prince. Tell him all about what’s happened.” Miya’s grip on his waist tightened, then vanished. Shirabu staggered and turned to face the vampire, the backs of his legs bumping against the bed. 

“Yuuji isn’t the only person I think about, you do realize that, right?” Miya growled, eyes narrowing. 

“But he is the most important one,” Shirabu replied. “So why are you here, when you could have just dumped me on the couch and scurried off to him?” Miya opened his mouth to answer, but found he didn’t actually know what he wanted to say. He didn’t really have a reason, except that Shirabu shouldn’t have been out of bed in the first place, whether Yahaba needed him for that stunt with Sakusa or not, and Miya didn’t want to leave Shirabu by himself while Kuguri took a message to Sakishima. Or, Miya realized, blinking at Shirabu in surprise, he just hadn’t wanted to leave Shirabu. 

Miya lifted his hands as Shirabu’s knees shook, one going to the human’s waist to steady him. His other hand went up higher, fingertips brushing along Shirabu’s cheekbone until his palm settled against the human’s cheek. Shirabu’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away from the touch. 

“Why won’t you let me in? Why are you letting Kuguri protect you and give you advice, but you wouldn’t even tell me what you were up to?” Miya asked quietly, searching Shirabu’s gaze for...something. Answers, maybe. A reaction. Anything. 

“Because I know what I’m doing is dangerous, and I can’t ask you to put my attempts at political deals ahead of you getting back to Terushima in one piece. You love him, and I can’t ask you to do anything that might jeopardize your relationship with him. And before you say anything, I’m fully aware that you helping some lowly human from another faction would make people start to question your loyalty to your prince,” Shirabu added wryly. Miya let out a humorless laugh, and his hand shifted from Shirabu’s cheek to his jaw, tilting his chin upward. “I answered your question,  _ Atsumu _ . You should answer mine.” Miya closed his eyes. He couldn’t deny that he liked the sharp, almost challenging way Shirabu said his name. But he also wasn’t used to hearing many people use it, and something about Shirabu calling him the same thing Terushima did felt wrong. 

“So Kuguri gets a cute nickname but I don’t?” Miya murmured, opening his eyes and staring down at him. Miya slid his thumb over the human’s lips almost without thinking. Or, he started the movement without thinking, but once he started, he couldn’t stop, because the human’s lips were softer than he’d thought, and he was completely ensnared by the feeling against the pad of his thumb. Shirabu hummed thoughtfully, allowing the touch and even leaning into it a little, lips parting slightly without him even realizing. Shirabu didn’t know how enchanting he was, did he? Miya pushed the thought away and dropped his hand. He really shouldn’t be thinking about the human like that. Or at all. No matter how invested he was in his safety. 

“That’s not an answer,” Shirabu pointed out. He leaned closer to Miya, face still tilted up, eyes bright with challenge. Oh, Miya realized distantly, maybe  _ invested _ was the wrong word for what he was feeling. “Why are you still here, with me, instead of-”

“Not everything is about Yuuji,” Miya growled, and then lowered his head slightly, as if to prove that very thing to himself, his lips almost touching Shirabu’s. Shirabu held perfectly still, eyes wide as he watched Miya. 

“Zolotse,” Shirabu whispered, the word a whisp of sensation across Miya’s lips. Miya frowned; what was that supposed to mean? Was that some sort of human code for something? Shirabu muttered something else under his breath, and Miya started to ask him what he’d said, but Shirabu laughed softly, apparently anticipating the question. “You wanted a nickname. You’re Zolotse.” Miya opened his mouth to question it - what did that even mean? - only to be distracted when Shirabu’s fingertips brushed his cheek. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop following me?” Kuguri’s voice snapped. Miya froze, eyes flying wide open. Then he surged backward, stumbling away from Shirabu. 

“I want to meet this human of yours who apparently lets you make deals for him with people who like to hurt you.” Shirabu didn’t know who the second voice belonged to, but he cursed their timing. 

“Miya-”

“I have to go,” Miya blurted out, the full weight of what he might have done if they hadn’t been interrupted slamming into him. “You’re right, I should go update Yuuji, I’ll check on you later.” Shirabu reached out, and his fingertips brushed Miya’s arm. Miya took another step back, nearly running into Kuguri as the other vampire stalked into Shirabu’s bedroom. 

“Kenjirou, this demon won’t-” Kuguri complained.

“Miya, don’t-” Shirabu pleaded.

“I just want to-” the stranger yelped as Miya pushed past him. Shirabu stumbled as he tried to follow, and Kuguri lunged forward, catching him and guiding him back to the bed. 

“Don’t let him leave! I need to talk to him!” Shirabu squirmed in Kuguri’s hold, but the vampire simply picked him up and dumped him onto the bed. 

“You’re not going anywhere. I’ll bring him back, but you stay here,” Kuguri snapped. “Futakuchi, if you bother Kenjirou I will dismember you.” The stranger started to protest, but Kuguri swept past him, after Miya. Shirabu stared after them for a moment, then turned his gaze on the stranger who stood awkwardly in the doorway. Shirabu blinked once, trying to push away the urge to chase after Miya himself. He blinked again, searching for something else to focus on. And then a third time, as Kuguri’s words registered. 

“Wait. Did he just call you Futakuchi?”

“Um. Yes? Who are you?” 

“You’re a demon. Of course you are. Does anyone stay dead around here?” Shirabu grumbled, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. 

“So you know who I am?” Futakuchi asked, tilting his head curiously. Shirabu lifted his head, then sighed and let it fall. 

“Kind of. Have a seat.” Shirabu patted the bed beside him, and Futakuchi gingerly sat. “I only know a little bit. I know you and someone named Aone used to be friends with Iwaizumi, who was a vampire hunter and is now Oikawa’s contractor. I know you and Aone were killed, and anyone who mentions either name around Iwaizumi will probably get shot. Rumor has it Tendou once tried to provoke Iwaizumi by chanting Aone’s name at him, and Iwaizumi almost shot his knees out.”

“Only almost?” 

“He hid behind Kunimi, so Iwaizumi didn’t have a clear shot,” Shirabu explained. Futakuchi was quiet for a moment. 

“You’re Kuguri’s human, aren’t you? The one he went to that bastard noble for.” Futakuchi’s voice was soft, his words tense. Shirabu frowned and sat up. 

“Yeah, you could say that. Drakonchik was supposed to take him a message for me.” Shirabu’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know what all happened, but Kuguri was on his knees and the noble had him by the hair. And when we left, he kept insulting you and Kuguri. He nearly lost it and went after the guy,” Futakuchi told him grimly. “You’re not making him let creeps like that touch him, are you?” There was a dangerous edge to the demon’s voice as he asked that.

“No. Drakonchik was only supposed to tell Sakishima that I would feed him twice and Kuguri would feed him once as payment for a political favor. Sakishima should never have laid a hand on him.” If Futakuchi’s words had been dangerous, Shirabu’s tone was downright murderous. “Help me up. I need to have a little talk with Sakishima.”

“Why not wait until you can walk without falling over?” Futakuchi suggested. Shirabu frowned at him, ready to object, but paused when he saw what could have been approval in the demon’s eyes. “Besides, didn’t you ask Kuguri to bring that other vampire back? Is blondie your lover?” Shirabu froze, confusion clouding his mind for a moment. Then he realized that when Futakuchi mentioned Miya, Shirabu had lifted one hand to his mouth, his thumb brushing over his own lips. Shirabu fought against a blush and was pretty sure he lost when Futakuchi gave him a knowing grin. “What about Kuguri? Is he your lover, too?”

“No! Neither of them are!” Shirabu scrambled to say. “Drakonchik and I are friends, and we trust each other, that’s all. And Zolotse is...well…he’s in love with someone else.” 

“Well, you seem to know him pretty well, so I’ll take your word on that,” Futakuchi hummed. “How far do you think they got?” Shirabu shrugged and sighed. 

“Hopefully not too far. I really need to talk to him…”


	18. First

Miya heard Shirabu tell Kuguri to bring him back, so instead of making a run for it down the hallway, Miya ducked into the first open door he saw and closed it behind him. He put his back to the door and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. 

He’d almost kissed Shirabu. 

“I almost kissed Shirabu,” he repeated out loud.

“I didn’t need to know that, but thanks for sharing, I guess.” Miya froze. Shit, he hadn’t checked to see if the room he’d hidden in was empty or not. He knew that voice, too, and cursed silently as he opened his eyes. Why, of all people, did he have to hide in  _ Oikawa’s _ rooms? 

Obviously this was his punishment for nearly kissing the human.

Iwaizumi - shirtless, flushed, with a trickle of blood flowing down his neck and pooling slightly at his collarbone - was laying on his back on the couch. He was glaring at Miya, but the force of his irritation was lessened by the fact that he appeared to be panting slightly and his hands were shamelessly planted on Oikawa’s ass. Oikawa was straddling Iwaizumi’s hips, a drop of the human’s blood at the corner of his mouth as he pouted at Miya.

“Your timing is shit, Miya,” Oikawa informed him. “I’m kind of over the whole sharing thing, so-”

“Let me hide here for a second,” Miya interrupted. “Or Kuguri will find me.” Oikawa didn’t answer right away, choosing to look down at the human beneath him instead. Oikawa swiped two fingers through the blood on Iwaizumi’s neck and collarbone, then lifted those fingers to his mouth and trailed his tongue over them, slowly licking the blood away in the least efficient way possible. “Actually, I’ll take my chances with Kuguri,” Miya decided, turning to reach for the doorknob. 

“Not so fast,” Oikawa objected. Miya refused to look over his shoulder, because he really didn’t need to see whatever Oikawa did that made Iwaizumi let out a hastily-stifled moan. 

“Exhibitionist,” Miya muttered.

“You walked in without an invitation,” Oikawa pointed out. Miya could practically  _ hear _ the smirk in his voice. 

“Your door was open,” Miya countered. 

“I thought I told you to close that,” Iwaizumi growled. Miya risked a look behind him and saw the human’s glare now directed at Oikawa, who blinked innocently at him. 

“Actually, you  _ asked _ me to close it,” Oikawa replied, giving him a sheepish grin. 

“I’m going to-”

“If you’re going to finish that sentence, can I go?” Miya asked. 

“Explain yourself first,” Oikawa replied, his expression becoming serious as he eyed Miya, who sighed and turned to face them. 

“Why should I?”

“Why shouldn’t I call for Kuguri right now?” Oikawa grinned. “I’m sure your sudden desire to avoid him has nothing to do with you apparently kissing-”

“I didn’t!” Miya hissed. “I didn’t kiss him! I wouldn’t!” 

“Sure, sure, I believe you. But you came close enough to it that you’re freaked out. Better calm down before you go back to Terushima,” Oikawa advised. Miya froze, his face paling. “Oh, relax. I’m not going to tell your prince about your not-kiss with little Shirabu. I will, however, turn you over to Kuguri or ask Shirabu about what happened if you don’t tell me.”

“Nothing happened,” Miya insisted. “I just...got caught up in the moment or something. It won’t happen again, so it doesn’t matter.” Miya turned away resolutely. Surely enough time had passed that Kuguri wouldn’t still be out there, right? He opened the door. 

“You’re wrong, you know. If you can’t face whatever made you almost do it, it’ll come back to bite you - and not in the fun way,” Oikawa told him. Miya scowled and stepped out into the hallway. “And it does matter! Maybe not to you, but I bet it matters to Shirabu!” Miya shook his head and closed the door.

“There you are, you asshole.” Miya bolted for the end of the hall, but a foot shot out, connected with his ankle, and Miya fell flat on his face. He groaned and rolled over, only to see Kuguri bending over him. Kuguri seized his arms and hauled him up, then pushed him toward Shirabu’s door. “Whatever you did to Kenjirou, fix it.”

“I didn’t do anything to him!”

“Then fix that and do something to him,” Kuguri insisted, shoving Miya through the living area and into Shirabu’s bedroom, where the human was still talking to Futakuchi. 

“And what exactly do you expect me to do to him?” Miya hissed. 

“Kuguri, sit him on the bed. Futakuchi, can you run that errand for me quick?” Shirabu asked. The demon nodded and slid off the bed, only to be replaced with a very unhappy Miya. As soon as Miya sat - he was slightly intimidated by Kuguri’s uncharacteristic glare and decided to cooperate - Shirabu moved, pushing Miya’s shoulder so the unprepared vampire’s back hit the bed. Shirabu sat on Miya’s stomach to limit his movements.

“Errand?” Kuguri repeated. 

“Futakuchi was kind enough to agree to take a message for me, since I didn’t know how long you’d be gone. You can go with him if you want, and get him back to the Michimiya once he's delivered it,” Shirabu suggested. “Then you should take the rest of the day off, okay? Get some rest.” Kuguri eyed Miya warily for a moment, then nodded and followed Futakuchi out of the room. Shirabu waited until he was sure they were gone, then frowned down at Miya. 

“Get off,” Miya grumbled, pushing at Shirabu’s side. Shirabu considered for a moment, then lifted himself off of the vampire. Miya started to sit up, but Shirabu shifted so he was straddling the vampire and dropped his weight right back on Miya’s stomach, forcing him back down. “Let me up, Shirabu.” The human leaned down, until his nose almost touched Miya’s. 

“No. I have something to say first,” Shirabu informed him. Miya tried to grab Shirabu’s sides to push him off, but his hands paused on Shirabu’s hips, and he found himself distracted by how nicely those hips fit in his hands. “Besides, I thought we were closer than that, Zolotse.” Miya’s fingers tightened at the nickname, accidentally rocking Shirabu forward a bit. Miya let go of Shirabu’s hips like he'd been burned, his hands falling to the bed at his sides. 

“Then say what you want to say and get it over with,  _ Kenjirou _ ,” Miya replied, trying to keep his voice steady. Shirabu studied him in silence for a moment, then sighed. 

“You said before that I didn't know what I wanted.”

“You corrected me easily enough,” Miya pointed out. Shirabu hummed in agreement. 

“I've always wanted the same thing. You, on the other hand..” Shirabu tilted his head, his lips a breath away from Miya’s. “You seem to be conflicted about what you want.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't you? You were about two seconds away from kissing me before Futakuchi and Drakonchik walked in,” Shirabu countered. 

“I was not,” Miya snapped. “I wouldn’t kiss you. I’m going back to Yuuji as soon as you can protect yourself. Why would I-”

“I don’t know. But you almost did. So before you go running back to your prince, you should think about your options,” Shirabu told him. “That’s all I wanted to say.” 

“Are you going to get off of me, then?” Miya grumbled, trying his best not to think about the fact that Shirabu was still perched on top of him, and no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he  _ had _ almost kissed the human before. Shirabu hummed to himself, apparently weighing his options. Miya could almost feel the sound on his own lips, and he wondered what it would feel like to actually kiss the human. After all, his lips had been so soft and inviting when Miya had touched them before…

“Do you really want me to?” Shirabu replied, lifting his head as he started to sit up, shifting down Miya’s body with the motion. Shirabu started to slide sideways off of him, but Miya’s hands flew to the human’s hips again, holding him in place. They both froze, staring at each other in surprise. Then Shirabu hummed again, smugly this time, and leaned back down. “You need to decide what you really want, Zolotse. You deserve so much more than what Terushima gives you.” Miya’s grip loosened, and Shirabu slid off of him. Miya lay where he was for a moment, then forced all thoughts about how much he’d liked having Shirabu on top of him, or how tempted he’d been to tilt his head that last little bit to kiss him, out of his head. He sat up, turned to look at Shirabu, who sat comfortably on his knees, watching him. 

“I need to take a walk,” Miya said quietly. Shirabu’s lips quirked in an expression that was too sour to be called a smile.

“Of course. But before you go…” Miya eyed the human warily, but didn’t stand yet. He didn’t know what Shirabu was planning, but…

Shirabu reached for him, brushed Miya’s bangs out of his eyes, and then leaned in and pressed their lips together in a delicate, almost tentative kiss. 

Miya’s thoughts screeched to a halt. The human’s lips somehow felt even softer against his own than they had against his thumb. Shirabu sighed, his breath tickling Miya’s mouth, and leaned back, breaking the contact. A wordless whine of protest escaped Miya’s throat. He wasn’t done enjoying that gentle touch, so different from Terushima’s kisses, which ranged from possessive to teasing to lustful, but were never soft or loving. 

So of course Miya curled his fingers around the back of Shirabu’s neck and pulled him back for another kiss. 


	19. After All

Futakuchi ignored Kuguri’s questioning looks as he made his way through the palace, retracing his steps. Kuguri stopped in his tracks when he realized Futakuchi was approaching Sakishima’s rooms, but Futakuchi just kept walking. He did stop when he reached the door, if only to knock. The demon didn’t bother waiting to be invited in. He strode into the room as Sakishima, who had apparently been reclining on his couch, scrambled to his feet. 

“Are you lost again, or are you just an idiot?” Sakishima hissed, recognizing the demon. “Get out of my room!” Futakuchi grinned and gave him an overly exaggerated, mocking bow. 

“I have a message from a lowly bloodsack for you, though. Don’t you want to hear it?” Futakuchi replied as he straightened. 

“If that little worm wants to talk to me, he should stop sending messengers, and-”

“Oh, but he doesn’t. In fact, Shirabu wants to  _ not _ talk to you so badly, he’s sent me to call of the deal he had with you. See, he doesn’t like the way you treated Kuguri earlier, so he’s decided Sakusa can do without your support after all. You won’t be getting so much as a single drop of blood.” Futakuchi smirked, his fangs flashing as he met the stunned and furious noble’s eyes. “Now, this next part isn’t from Shirabu, it’s just me giving you some advice from the goodness of my heart. Don’t you ever touch Kuguri again, or I’ll rip your heart out. No one deserves to be treated the way you treated him earlier, and I know Michimiya doesn’t like sadistic assholes any more than I do, so she probably wouldn’t even punish me if I did kill you.” 

“You little bastard,” Sakishima hissed, eyes narrowing as he advanced on the demon. Futakuchi didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned forward, letting his smirk edge toward a lethal grin. 

“I might be a pretty young demon, but I was picked to guard Michimiya for a reason. You remember her guard Konoha, right? The one who’s friends with all those people in the royals’ inner circle? Yeah, just think about what I must have accomplished in my relatively short lifetime to be chosen to step in while he’s gone. Don’t think too hard, though, or the other demons and I will be able to smell your fear.” Futakuchi turned to leave.

“That insignificant worm will regret going back on our deal,” Sakishima hissed. 

“I doubt it. But he may regret telling me not to kill you just yet,” Futakuchi called over his shoulder as he left. Kuguri was waiting for him in the hallway, his eyes wide and fearful. He didn’t speak as he led Futakuchi to Michimiya’s rooms. Futakuchi hesitated at the door, glancing at Kuguri. 

“You shouldn’t have told Kenjirou. Losing this deal with Sakishima could really hurt Sakusa and therefore Kenjirou in the long run,” Kuguri murmured, guessing what Futakuchi wanted to say. The demon frowned and started to speak, but Kuguri cut him off. “But...I’m glad you did. I’ve been at Sakishima’s mercy before - not that he actually has any - and I don’t care to repeat the experience.”

“But you were going to,” Futakuchi pointed out. Kuguri met his eyes steadily. 

“For Kenjirou. He would have promised too much blood to Sakishima if I hadn’t. So yes, I was going to let Sakishima do whatever he wanted. Since you’re a demon, though, you really shouldn’t have been concerned by that,” Kuguri sighed. 

“Like I told that asshole back there,” Futakuchi said, looking away. “I can’t stand people like him. And if Shirabu was the kind of person to allow that sort of thing, well…”

“He’s not,” Kuguri assured him. “I’ve been told that Ushijima’s hunters don’t play with their prey. Except, of course, for that one that betrayed them and caused all the trouble a few weeks ago.” Futakuchi raised an eyebrow, but Kuguri shook his head. “I should go.”

“See you around, cutie,” Futakuchi replied, grinning. Kuguri blinked at him, then turned and hurried down the hallway, his steps hurried. 

“Kenji, leave the vampire alone.” Futakuchi whirled and pouted when he saw the demon he was going to be protecting standing in the doorway.  

“But Michimiya, you’ve got a pretty vampire. Konoha’s got a pretty ex-vampire now. I want one, too,” Futakuchi protested. Michimiya shook her head. 

“Come inside and tell me about what you’ve been up to. I already sent Komi back to the demon realm,” she told him. "And Konoha does not have a pretty ex-vampire. He's still with Komi." 

* * *

 

Komi emerged from his portal and frowned. He’d tried to guide the portal so he’d return to the demon realm as close to Konoha’s location as possible. He hadn’t realized he’d appear just in time to see Semi fall into Konoha’s arms. Komi was frozen in place. If he moved, if he made a sound, they would notice him. So he stayed completely still, completely silent, and watched. They talked quietly for what felt like ages but was probably only a minute or two at most. Then Semi stepped back and spoke loudly enough for Komi to hear. 

“Now, about who I remembered…” Konoha sighed and nodded. 

“That vampire with the curly hair, the one who tried to touch you,” Konoha began, and Komi knew exactly where this was going. He needed to leave, because he knew his presence would only make this conversation harder for Konoha and Semi. Besides, Komi really didn’t want to hear the inevitable pain in Konoha’s voice when he talked about Sakusa. Komi had heard enough of that pain during the decades he’d watched Konoha hurting because of Semi’s devotion to his prince. If Konoha wanted to reopen that wound for Semi’s sake - if Konoha wanted Semi - then that was his choice, but Komi didn’t think he could handle witnessing it. “That was the vampires’ Third Prince, Sakusa Kyoomi. You spent almost your whole life as a vampire protecting him. And since before I met you, you were his lover as well as his protector.” Semi was silent, and Komi couldn’t see the young demon’s face from his position, but he could see the shadow of Konoha’s past turmoil over Semi in his eyes. 

Komi also saw the moment Konoha lifted his gaze from Semi’s and saw Komi standing there. 

“What? There’s no way those memories I have are of that overbearing, selfish-”

“Ruki,” Konoha whispered. Komi flinched at the nickname and took a step back. “Haruki, you know I wouldn’t-”

“I know,” Komi interrupted. And he did, he really did. He knew Konoha would never betray him. He knew that if Konoha wanted Semi, he would never touch him without talking to Komi - without breaking things off between them - first. He also knew that Konoha might very well push aside the feelings he still had - the feelings he’d always had - for Semi in favor of not hurting Komi. “I know, Aki. Do what’s best for you, all right? I understand.”

“Haruki, you  _ don’t  _ understand! I’m not-”  _ Leaving you _ , Komi didn’t let him get to say, holding up one hand to stop Konoha from finishing that sentence. 

“But you want to,” he pointed out. 

“Ruki, just listen to me,” Konoha insisted, stepping around Semi and crossing the room. Komi let Konoha get close to him, let Konoha frame his face with shaking hands. Komi let Konoha bend down to kiss him. He took a moment to enjoy the warm, familiar press of Konoha’s lips against his own, memorizing the feeling. When Konoha finally lifted his head and opened his mouth to speak, Komi brought his hand up and covered Konoha’s mouth. 

“Aki, it’s your turn to listen to me, I think,” Komi said gently. His eyes burned, and he could feel a lump forming in his throat but he did his best to ignore it. “I have held you for years - for  _ decades _ \- while you wished for a chance to be with him. I know you love me, and I know you would never do anything to hurt me. But I also know that you’ve been in love with Semi too, for longer than you’ve loved me. And you deserve a chance to see how that will go. So don’t let this chance go to waste, Akinori.” Komi lost his fight against his emotions for a second, his voice breaking on Konoha’s name as he blinked furiously to hold back tears. Konoha was silent, gaping at him, his lips brushing Komi’s palm as he struggled for words, but no sound came out. Komi managed a smile - he was pretty sure the expression was small and broken, but he thought it was enough to count - and then stretched up to kiss Konoha’s forehead as he dropped his hand from the taller demon’s mouth. 

“Ruki-”

Komi stepped back, his portal opening above him. He launched himself up, just enough to pass through the portal, which winked out of existence as soon as he was through, leaving Konoha reaching for someone who’d already left.

“Ruki!” Konoha cried, his fingers closing on empty air where Komi had been a split second before. For a moment, Konoha stayed there, fingers outstretched and grasping for Komi, trying too late to stop him from leaving. For a moment, there was silence, grief clouding the air.

Then there was a quiet thump behind him. Konoha turned, and found that Semi had fallen to his knees and was staring in absolute horror at the place where Komi had been. 

“I’m sorry,” Semi whispered. “I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked, and his human form fell away as his concentration vanished. Only decades of practice had kept Konoha in his own human form, and that was wavering now as the full weight of what had just happened crashed over him. Komi was gone, Konoha had no idea where he was or if he was coming back, and Konoha hadn’t been able to stop him. Then there was Semi, only weeks old, his demon form barely settled, and he was blaming himself for all of this. 

Konoha bit his lip, taking a moment to stabilize his human form, then went back to Semi and crouched beside him. Guilt swamped him as he pulled the trembling demon into his arms. His heart was torn in half, caught between the need to search for Komi and make things right even though he had no idea where to start looking and the need to reassure Semi that this wasn’t his fault, that everything would be okay. 

Konoha couldn’t bring himself to say out loud that everything would be okay, though. 

After all, despite being a demon, Konoha did his best not to lie. 


	20. Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, Kuguri.

Kuguri left Futakuchi at the demons’ door and hurried down the hallway, anxious to get a safe distance away before he ended up revealing how flustered the damned demon made him. It wasn’t even the words; Kuguri was used to being complimented on his looks. But there was no malicious intent, no possessive edge to Futakuchi’s words, and that was new. Kuguri paused when he approached the wing of the palace reserved for the noble vampires who didn’t belong to any royal faction. Technically, Kuguri still had his own room there, but as time went on, being with Shirabu felt more like a home than the room in that wing ever had. Kuguri turned away, wondering if Shirabu would let him sleep in his rooms again. 

Fingers clamped around his neck, cutting off his air, dangerously close to crushing his throat as he fought for breath. An arm wrapped around his waist. He lashed out, and his elbow connected with someone’s ribs as the nails on his other hand scraped across someone else’s skin. Kuguri hissed and kicked out, intending to force whoever had grabbed him to take his weight. 

“Naoyasu, don’t bother fighting us,” a familiar voice murmured in his ear. Kuguri’s blood went cold.

“Hiroo,” he whispered, shock making him pause long enough for the grip on his waist to shift, pinning his arms to his sides.

“Now, now, aren’t you going to call me Kouji like you used to?” Hiroo purred. “If you do, I might go easy on you.” Kuguri bared his fangs and tried to twist his head to sink them into the arm of whoever still had a grip on his neck. A different hand seized his chin and yanked, forcing him to look ahead and down, into the smirking face of Sakishima. 

“It’s going to take more than a little sweet-talking with your name to get him out of this,” Sakishima hummed. “I had a way to get that irritating bloodsack under control, but apparently our little Naoyasu doesn’t like his place anymore and went tattling to his new friend.”

“Naoyasu knows better,” Hiroo objected. “It was probably that demon who was with him.”

“Then we’ll have to teach the meddling shadow some manners, too,” Sakishima replied. “But we can handle him whenever we want, as long as we have a good story to tell that bitch to convince her to let us have a little chat with her new protector. For now, let’s get our dear little Naoyasu back to his quarters. I do believe he’s collapsed in the middle of the hallway.” The fingers around Kuguri’s throat tightened once more, and Kuguri’s vision went dark.

* * *

 

Komi didn’t know where he was when he tumbled out of the portal and into the realm inhabited by, well, basically everything that wasn’t a demon. All he knew was that he was far from the other demons who were currently in the realm. 

Komi closed his eyes, tucked his demonic energy close around himself and called on his buried secondary energy. One of the minor abilities from his past life wrapped around him, settled on his skin, hiding his demonic nature from everyone, including Konoha. Without this...camouflage, as Konoha had called it once...Komi would have been found in minutes. Konoha wasn't the most precise with his portals - not like Futakuchi, who could portal into the realm right next to the person he wanted to find if he focused - but Konoha had known Komi long enough to be able to find him. Unless, of course, Komi took precautions. 

Konoha would never find him now, no matter how desperate he was to find him. Komi bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to control his tears as they pricked at his eyes, threatening to fall at the thought of Konoha searching for him. 

“That’s an impressive trick you have there, demon,” a pleasant, friendly voice observed. Komi froze, his eyes flying open. A vampire stood before him, one Komi didn't know. He didn't look any older than the vampires Komi had met, but there was something deep and ancient in his eyes. “Were you a hunt-mage in your past life?” Komi stepped back, only for his shoulders to meet a wall. He tensed, gaze darting around his surroundings. He appeared to be in some kind of office, and the only other person in the room was this vampire who apparently sensed and recognized his camouflage. 

“Where am I? Who are you?” Komi hissed, trying to buy time. 

“My name is Moniwa Kaname. You portaled into my office. You're at my orphanage, near the human-vampire border,” the vampire answered. “And for a demon such as yourself to end up here, you must be running from something. Or, considering your little trick, how distressed you are, and the way you were trying not to cry, I would say you're running from some _ one _ .” Komi flinched, and suddenly some of the vampire’s calm vanished. “Oh, I'm sorry, I'm not trying to push or anything. It's none of my business, I'm sure. Come and sit down, and I'll arrange for a room for you,” the vampire urged. 

“A room? I’m not staying,” Komi objected. “I need to keep moving, or-”

“You have your little trick going. No demon will find you here. No vampire would look for you here. And no human knows this place exists. You came through a portal, so no werewolf can track you. You're safe here. Might as well stay and calm down a bit,” Moniwa pointed out. Komi hesitated, and Moniwa cautiously stepped closer to him. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. And if you tell me who you’re trying to avoid, I can help you hide from them.” Moniwa’s hand came to rest on Komi’s shoulder, and that gentle touch made him want to cry all over again. He held back his emotions, if only barely. Komi took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his hands trembled as he met Moniwa’s gaze. 

“Konoha Akinori. Don’t let him find me, please,” Komi said finally. He almost expected Moniwa to kick him out at that, because most vampires with any sort of authority to protect anyone - especially a demon - would recognize Konoha’s name. But Moniwa just smiled. 

“As long as you don’t pose a threat to myself or the children here, I’ll have Morisuke throw Konoha off your trail if he comes looking for you.” Komi blinked, momentarily distracted from his own troubles, even though he knew they could come crashing back at any second. 

“Wait. Morisuke? Palace Commander Yaku Morisuke?” he blurted out. Moniwa nodded happily. 

“The very same. He’s a longtime... _ friend _ of mine, you might say,” Moniwa told him. “Now, about arranging a room for you…”

* * *

 

Kuguri woke abruptly, searing pain at his fingertips yanking him back to consciousness. He shrieked and jerked instinctively, and the pain lessened for a moment, then returned in full force, this time on his whole hand. He screamed and thrashed, only for a strong grip on his wrists to keep his hands in place...wherever they were. He forced his eyes open and saw that his hands were being held over an open flame, held up by one of the minor nobles while two more gripped his wrists. He struggled against their hold, but someone else was holding his shoulders, and the grips on his wrists didn’t budge.

“Enough. We don’t want to kill the his sense of touch,” Sakishima ordered. The fire was lowered,  and Kuguri wailed as the nobles dropped his hands, the motion jostling them and sending a fresh wave of pain up his arms. 

“Of course not. We want to make sure our little Naoyasu is properly taken care of,” Hiroo agreed. He picked up one of Kuguri’s hands, making him hiss and try to pull away. Hiroo tightened his grip, and Kuguri whimpered and tried to hold still. “After all, Naoyasu thinks he’s practically royalty since he started running with that little bloodsack. He even got a demon to treat him like he’s someone important,” Hiroo sneered, lifting Kuguri’s hand to his mouth and scraping his fangs along the red, inflamed skin on the back of Kuguri’s hand. Kuguri bit down on his bottom lip to try to muffle his own cry, one of his fangs piercing his lip. Sakishima’s fingers curled around Kuguri’s jaw, turning his head so he was facing the shorter vampire. Sakishima pulled Kuguri’s head down and leaned close. Kuguri tried to glare, but the expression slid into a disgusted grimace as Sakishima’s tongue darted out and lapped at the bleeding puncture in Kuguri’s lip. 

“Now, now, Naoyasu. Remember your place,” Sakishima purred. “Why don’t you show me your pretty neck?”

“I don’t owe you any blood,” Kuguri growled, his voice coming out significantly weaker than he wanted. 

“Sure you do,” Sakishima smirked. “My deal with your little human friend was cut off, remember? I think you owe me plenty for ruining that deal for me.” Kuguri bit back a whine as Sakishima’s grip on his jaw tightened, until Sakishima was holding his head in place with bruising force. “Now, are you going to behave and let me bite you, or do we need to burn your feet, too?” Kuguri tensed as a wave of warmth washed over his feet, not hot enough to burn, but almost. 

“Let’s burn him anyway. He’s picked a worthless human over his fellow vampires,” Hiroo griped. He paused, then added, “I know you like the taste of pain in the blood just as much as I do.” Sakishima hummed thoughtfully. 

“You make a good point. Burn the bottoms of his feet,” Sakishima ordered. Kuguri tried to throw himself sideways, tried to thrash around enough to make them let go, but the only grip he managed to loosen was Sakishima’s, and he easily adjusted his hold to wrap his fingers around Kuguri’s throat instead. Kuguri’s vision swam as Sakishima’s grip tightened, cutting off his air and leaving him gasping. A moment later, one of his feet was lifted, and the same searing agony from earlier screamed up his leg. Kuguri shrieked, his foot jerking as he put as much strength as he possibly could into trying to get away. He lashed out with his arms, his cries rising in pitch and volume as the movement made agony race over his burned hands again. The blistering heat stayed for a moment, then vanished, and Kuguri’s foot was set back on the floor. 

Kuguri sobbed and nearly collapsed as he tried to avoid putting weight on his foot, only to have his other one lifted, forcing his burned one to take all of his weight. He only managed to stay upright because of another minor noble holding him up. He tried to elbow that vampire, but his purposeful blow turned into helpless writhing as flames bit at the bottom of his previously uninjured foot. Kuguri screamed, his voice raw and broken from his repeated cries and Sakishima’s unforgiving grip on his neck. 

“Drop him,” Sakishima ordered. Kuguri didn’t quite register what the command meant until suddenly all of the vampires touching him let go, and he collapsed to the floor. For a moment he lay there, whimpering brokenly with every breath, his mind clouded with agony. Then there was a gentle, almost comforting touch on his cheek, and he turned toward it instinctively. “That’s better, Naoyasu,” Sakishima hummed approvingly. The touch on his cheek lingered for a moment, then trailed up and back until fingers curled into his hair and tugged. Kuguri gasped, his lips falling open at the twinge of pain in his scalp, but let his head be tilted back.. “Now be good and hold still.” Kuguri’s whole body trembled, but he didn’t dare try to move away again. Sakishima ducked his head, and before Kuguri’s pain-heavy mind could figure out what he was doing, Sakishima’s fangs were digging into Kuguri’s lower lip, on either side of the puncture wound from his own fang earlier. Sakishima pulled Kuguri’s lip between his own as the blood welled up and sucked, coaxing a heavier bloodflow from the wounds. 

Kuguri shuddered, his skin crawling as Sakishima drank his blood. Sakishima finally lifted his head. He licked his lips, staring down at Kuguri thoughtfully for a second before he ducked his head again. Sakishima’s tongue lapped over the punctures, collecting the blood that threatened to trail down Kuguri’s chin. 

“Remember your place, Naoyasu,” Sakishima murmured, tilting his head to bring his mouth closer to Kuguri’s ear. Kuguri closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, turning a scream into a choked whine as someone - Hiroo, probably, knowing him - stepped on one of his hands, heel digging into the burned skin. Sakishima chuckled and bit down on the shell of Kuguri’s ear, his fangs punching through the cartilage. Kuguri’s scream wasn’t so muffled that time. “Oh, and feel free to tell your little bloodsack friend exactly what happened to you. Maybe we’ll grab him next time if you forget your place again.” 

“Don’t touch him,” Kuguri choked out, his words rasping out of a throat raw from screaming, with a slight lisp from his rapidly swelling lip. “I don’t care what you do to me, but don’t you dare touch Kenjirou.” Sakishima’s answering chuckle was dark, and Kuguri could hear the smirk in his voice when the shorter noble spoke. 

“Kenjirou, hm? I think we  _ will _ go to him directly the next time we have a complaint about the behavior of his...what are you supposed to be to him? His servant? His trophy?” Sakishima sneered. Kuguri didn’t answer that time. He shouldn’t have answered the first time; he knew better. He really did. He knew that reacting to Sakishima’s taunts just encouraged him. So Kuguri closed his eyes and resolved not to react to anything else. He focused on the throbbing of his hands and feet, the raw pain in his throat. If he could concentrate enough on that pain, anything else they might do to him wouldn’t be as effective. 

“Damn, he shut down,” Hiroo muttered. “He’s never any fun once he does that.”

“You must not have much faith in my abilities. But you’re right. Once he gets like this, it’s more trouble than it’s worth to get any decent reactions out of him. Drop him off at Yaku’s or something. I’m going back to my rooms,” Sakishima sighed. 

Kuguri barely heard their words, but once he realized what they were saying, he couldn’t help but smile a little. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look I burned a character and it wasn't Akaashi.


	21. Aftermath

Sakunami hesitated outside Shirabu’s bedroom. He could hear movement inside, and really, he’d interrupted far too many people in their bedrooms to want to repeat the experience. Still, Yaku had sent him on a really important errand, and he wasn’t about to disappoint his mentor…

“Shirabu, I have a message from the Palace Commander,” Sakunami called, hoping that when the door opened, the human would at least have clothes on. He heard someone swearing under their breath beyond the door, and hasty movement. A moment later, Shirabu opened the door, and Sakunami took a moment to be relieved that yes, he was fully clothed.

Of course, Shirabu’s hair was a mess, and his lips were red and swollen, and his shirt had that distinctive someone’s-hands-were-under-it rumpled quality that Sakunami often wished he couldn’t recognize immediately. Shirabu wasn’t wearing the hood that had become his trademark in the last couple of weeks, revealing multiple bites of varying freshness, as well as what appeared to be a very enthusiastically given hickey on his collarbone. Sakunami sighed and tried not to glance behind Shirabu. Really, he did. Unfortunately, Miya walked up behind the human and eyed Sakunami over Shirabu’s shoulder, and the vampire was in no better shape than the human. 

“You said you had a message?” Shirabu prompted. Sakunami nodded hastily, glad to have an excuse to look away from Miya. 

“The Palace Commander needs you in his office. Something’s happened to Kuguri,” Sakunami told him. Miya frowned, and Shirabu paled. 

“What happened to him?” Shirabu demanded. 

“We’re not exactly sure. And before you ask, we don’t know who did it, either. He was dropped off by one of the minor nobles, who claimed to have found him in the hallway. Yuuki is with him, trying to feed him, but he’s refusing to talk to us or let us feed him,” Sakunami explained. 

“Take me to him,” Shirabu ordered. Sakunami raised an eyebrow.

* * *

 

_ “Can’t you just track him?” Daishou pointed out. “Just find him, explain whatever you need to explain, and-” _

_ “You don’t understand. He could be anywhere,” Konoha snapped. “And even if I could be as exact with sensing other demons and opening portals to them as Futakuchi is, Haruki can’t be found when he doesn’t want to be.” _

Daishou shook his head to clear his thoughts and opened his own portal. Komi had taught him to use his powers ever since he woke in the demon realm, and Semi had been his friend since the former vampire appeared. Konoha was important to both of them, and he’d saved Daishou and Semi after Daishou made the mistake of taking Semi to the palace. 

“Daishou? What are you doing here?” Daishou blinked, then relaxed as he recognized Futakuchi, one of the demons who was several years older than him, the demon he’d been trying to find. 

“Looking for you, actually. I need to talk to a mage,” Daishou told him. Futakuchi frowned. 

“A mage? Why?”

“Well, apparently Komi used to be some kind of mage before he was a demon, so now he can hide from other demons. Konoha thinks something called a hunting mage might be able to track him,” Daishou explained. Futakuchi’s eyes narrowed. 

“Why are you tracking Komi? What happened?” he demanded. Daishou hesitated, then sighed and figured it wouldn’t hurt. After all, Futakuchi had been taught by Komi too, so he’d probably find out eventually. 

“I don’t know all of the details, but I do know that something happened between Konoha, Komi, and Semi,” Daishou told him. “And Komi ran. Konoha won’t quit pacing, and Semi’s freaking out because he thinks this is his fault.” Futakuchi was silent for a moment. 

“Is it Semi’s fault? Because If he’s trying to drive Komi away from Konoha-”

“That’s not what happened,” Daishou hissed. “Now either introduce me to a mage who can help me or I’ll wander around here until I find one, because I can’t take any more of those two breaking down while Komi is who knows where. Even if I find him and he doesn’t want to see Konoha, I need to be able to tell Konoha and Semi that he’s okay. Otherwise they’re going to keep getting worse.” Futakuchi eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. 

“Fine. I can’t guarantee she’ll be able to help, but I do know a mage who seems to have some influence. I’ll introduce you to her,” he agreed. “This way.” He turned, and Daishou followed him quickly.

* * *

 

Kuguri lay on a couch against the wall in a small room connected to Yaku’s office. His burns were beginning to heal, and he had already drunk as much of Shibayama’s blood as the little vampire could afford to give him, but the cloying stench of burned flesh still lingered. He opened his eyes when he heard the door open, and let out a confused little noise when he realized it was Shirabu crossing the room toward him. Kuguri glanced past the human and saw Miya, Yaku, and Sakunami clustered just on the other side of the doorway. Shirabu knelt by Kuguri’s head and gently threaded his finger’s through Kuguri’s hair, fingertips carefully massaging his scalp as he studied Kuguri’s expression. 

“Oh, Drakonchik, who hurt you?” Shirabu murmured. “Was it Sakishima? Or one of the others?” Kuguri hesitated, and avoided Shirabu’s eyes by focusing on Yaku over the human’s shoulder. Yaku was watching them out of the corner of his eye, but Shirabu either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Tell me.”

“Didn’t see most of them,” Kuguri whispered honestly. Shirabu’s eyes widened, and Kuguri realized he’d admitted there was more than one person who’d attacked him. 

“Give me one name, and if Yaku doesn’t hunt them all down and destroy them for this, I will,” Shirabu insisted. Kuguri shook his head, then reached up to lay his hand over Shirabu’s, hissing slightly in pain as the still-healing wounds on his palm stung at the contact. 

“They’ll come after me again. It’s too much trouble, for me and for you,” Kuguri replied softly. 

“Stay closer to me, then. I’ll protect you,” Shirabu countered. “And before you say anything, it’s no trouble.” 

“I’m supposed to be the one protecting you, remember?” Kuguri huffed, a trace of amusement in his voice.

“And how exactly are you going to do that if you let people get away with attacking you?” Shirabu demanded with a scowl. “I want a name, Drakonchik.” Kuguri met the human’s gaze for a long moment before replying. 

“Hiroo. And Sakishima,” Kuguri said at last. Shirabu tensed, then sighed and leaned forward until his forehead rested on Kuguri’s. 

“Hiroo must be angry that you haven’t been available for any of his schemes,” Shirabu speculated. “And Sakishima is getting revenge for the canceled deal.” Kuguri nodded, and Shirabu closed his eyes, fingers combing through Kuguri’s hair lightly. “They won’t get away with this,” Shirabu promised quietly. 

“Let me handle this, Shirabu,” Yaku spoke up, moving closer and resting a hand on Shirabu’s shoulder. Shirabu didn’t move, but the tension radiating from his body was answer enough. “It’s not your place to defend an unaligned minor noble,” Yaku insisted. 

“But if I do nothing, they’ll think I’m hiding behind your authority, and they’ll never learn,” Shirabu pointed out. 

“You don’t have any authority to avenge Kuguri at the moment, though,” Yaku pressed. 

“Kenjirou, it’s fine. There’s no need for-” Shirabu cut off Kuguri’s words by bringing his other hand up to gently cover the vampire’s mouth. 

“It’s not fine. But I know Yaku is right, so let’s make a compromise,” Shirabu suggested, dropping his hand and turning to look up at Yaku. “I won’t physically attack them, or convince anyone else to do so. But in return, you give me the names of every single one who hurt him.”

“You’re going to block them out and punish them politically,” Miya guessed, crossing the room and standing over Shirabu, arms crossed and lips turned down in disapproval. “That’s a dangerous game, Kenjirou.” Shirabu shifted his attention to Miya, his eyes narrowing even as the slightest hint of a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

“Thanks to your training, my hunting background, and Drakonchik’s advice, I’m a more dangerous person now. I know what I’m doing,” Shirabu assured him. Miya looked like he wanted to object, but kept quiet, so Shirabu returned his attention to Yaku. “Well? Do we have a deal?”

“We do. But if I find any sign that you’ve physically attacked any of them-”

“You’ll deal with me accordingly,” Shirabu interrupted. “I know.”

* * *

 

Fukunaga lifted his head, eyes wide and catlike. He blinked slowly, then tilted his head. He could practically smell change on the horizon, and he wasn’t sure who exactly he would be meeting, but he knew why they were coming to him. It was always the same reason. 

Fukunaga turned away from the entrance to his small home and stepped into his workshop. He would need to be prepared, if someone was resorting to him again. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to go to the palace. He shuddered; vampires were always so... _ sociable _ . They usually tried to get him to talk. Fukunaga shook his head and focused on his workspace. His gaze caught on a pile of cloth masks and he reminded himself to send those with whoever came to see him. The price for his help could be delivering those to Kenma for him. Fukunaga nodded to himself and scanned the area for anything else he could get his future visitors to deliver for him so he wouldn’t have to leave his home and interact with anyone. 

As long as the visitors just showed up, said what they wanted, accepted the price, let Fukunaga work in peace, and then took the results and left, this could end up being a very profitable encounter. 


	22. Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to Goshiki and Fukunaga. To Goshiki for what is headed his way, and to Fukunaga for inflicting my probably-ooc-characterization on him.   
> Also, sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been busy with other projects and finals and work and holidays.

"I'm taking Atsumu back," Terushima hissed as he stalked into the room. Sakusa raised an eyebrow and pulled his new mask into place as he stood and stepped between the small mage and the angry prince.

"You cannot do that," Ushijima spoke up from Sakusa's side, narrowing his eyes as he watched Terushima. "From what I remember, Miya will not be returned to you until Shirabu has learned to fight like him satisfactorily."

"That's true, but Atsumu's supposed to be safe during that time, and your darling prince can't protect him," Terushima snapped. "I heard what happened to that minor noble because he was hanging around that scrawny human. I won't let the same thing happen to my Atsumu."

"Kuguri didn't have a Prince's protection. Miya does. And I have him until Shirabu can properly defend himself," Sakusa insisted, shifting to place himself between Ushijima and Terushima when the Third Prince's glare got a little too threatening for Sakusa's taste.

"I think that little human has taken care of himself plenty well. He's got a minor noble on a leash, the Palace Commander apparently listening to him, plus that demon who has way too many friends," Terushima countered. "Shirabu has learned enough from Atsumu. Give him back to me peacefully or I'll take this to Kiyoko and point out that your human is putting vampires who don't belong to you at risk." For a long moment, Sakusa met Terushima's gaze.

"The only way you're getting him back before I feel like handing him over is if Kiyoko orders me to give him to you," Sakusa said coldly. Terushima sneered and turned on his heel, stalking out as abruptly as he had come. 

* * *

“Goshiki, don’t run ahead!” Reon’s warning fell on deaf ears as Goshiki darted away from the rest of his hunting group. With Ushijima and Shirabu gone, their usual strategy and their strongest hunter weren’t available. And with Tendou dead, the only way to figure out where trespassing vampires were was to chase them down on foot. Plus since they’d lost Ennoshita and Ringu, the group was shorthanded. So with the cloak of their current target disappearing around the corner, Goshiki pursued. They’d spent days tracking down this trespasser - one who had attacked several humans before and was on the garrison’s list of vampires who’d been condemned to execution, so the hunters had free reign over this particular vampire’s fate - and Goshiki wasn’t about to let this monster get away. 

Goshiki chased the vampire, around the corner, down the road, into an alley, and then stopped, blinking in confusion. He’d half expected to catch a glimpse of the vampire vanishing around a corner or over a rooftop, but he hadn’t expected the vampire to be standing in the middle of the road, staring at him. 

“You’ll do,” the vampire hummed. “Come here, little hunter.” Goshiki brought his gun up and leveled the barrel at the vampire’s chest and fired, but the monster spun sideways and then darted forward, crouched low. Goshiki adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger again, this time grazing the vampire’s upper arm. Unfortunately, that gave the monster a damned good reason to push himself forward faster, duck under Goshiki’s outstretched arm, and slam into the young hunter’s chest. Goshiki shouted and fell backwards. His back hit the road, then his head. He cried out again, this time in pain, and his gun clattered across the ground as his fingers went limp and his vision swam. 

Pain flared on the side of his neck, and it took a few dazed seconds for Goshiki to figure out that the odd sensation at the same spot that had hurt a second before was the vampire sucking on a puncture wound in his skin. Goshiki writhed, lashing out at the monster on top of him. He could head distant, familiar shouts - his fellow hunters, calling his name - and opened his mouth to yell for help.

The vampire noticed, though, and released his neck. Before Goshiki registered the lack of vampire fangs on his skin or the monster’s movement, there was a flash of fangs and then the vampire’s palm was bleeding. 

“Yamagata! Kawani-” Goshiki’s cry was cut off as the vampire’s bleeding hand clamped down on his mouth, the cut on the monster’s hand pressed to the hunter’s lips, still parted from his shout. Goshiki shrieked as hot metallic liquid poured over his tongue, and he wrenched his head away. Blood smeared over his lips and trailed down his cheek as the vampire’s grip slipped. A moment later though, the vampire’s other hand to seize his hair and yank him back. Goshiki’s vision blurred with tears as his scalp burned and the vampire’s blood filled his mouth once more. He screeched and kicked, brought his hands up to claw helplessly at the vampire’s arm. He couldn’t breathe; the blood was in his throat, he had to swallow, or he was going to choke.

Goshiki gulped down the vampire’s blood, and immediately wished he had opted for choking as the coppery liquid boiled its way to his stomach. He screeched, his whole body convulsing as agony ripped through him, emanating from his throat and stomach. The hand over his mouth vanished, along with the vampire’s weight on top of him, as the monster stood and stepped away from him. Goshiki tried to get to his feet, or find his gun, or  _ anything _ that would help him, but his body wasn’t obeying him, the pain only intensifying and making his limbs jerk uncontrollably. 

Goshiki dimly registered footsteps approaching, and a flurry of gunfire, announcing his friends’ arrival but when he tried to speak, all that came out was a scream. Familiar voices called his name, and someone touched his shoulder, but Goshiki couldn’t tell who was talking, couldn’t even turn his head to look at whoever was crouching beside him because his muscles were still spasming. There was pressure on his throat - Goshiki’s scream broke off into a gurgle as he struggled for air. 

“I’m sorry,” a familiar voice whispered, a soft touch on his ear almost going unnoticed as agony and terror lanced through Goshiki’s body. His vision went dark, and he could feel himself getting weaker. “I’m sorry, Goshiki,” the person choking him repeated as Goshiki’s awareness faded to nothing. 

* * *

Terushima watched as his fellow royals filed into their usual meeting room and settled down. He noticed Ushijima sat beside Sakusa, close enough that their shoulders brushed, and this time Sakusa was the one to lean over, resting his head against Ushijima’s shoulder. Misaki and Nakashima didn’t bother to sit; they stood against the wall, matching frowns and postures as they crossed their arms and eyed the others warily. Shirofuku paced on the far side of the room, Kai watching her calmly. As always, Shimizu was the last to arrive, and swept into the room with Nametsu on her heels. 

“Yuuji, what  _ precisely _ do you think calling us together will accomplish?” Shimizu demanded. 

“I think I’m getting Atsumu back,” Terushima replied, facing her squarely. “I want him returned to me immediately. Not because I’m trying to get out of my punishment,” he added, noticing that Misaki was scowling at him. “I’m sure you all heard about what happened to that minor noble?”

“Kuguri was attacked by other minor nobles. That’s not something you usually care about, Yuuji,” Sakusa murmured. 

“You’re right. Normally, I let the lower members of the court squabble amongst themselves. But this time, Kuguri was targeted because of his connection to that human, Shirabu. As long as Atsumu is training him, Atsumu is at risk for similar attacks. In order to protect Atsumu, I would like to formally request he be returned to me - or at least kept in the custody of someone who has a better track record of keeping their faction safe,” Terushima said grimly, pointedly not looking at Sakusa, who tensed and curled his upper lip in the beginnings of a snarl. 

“Kyoomi,” Shimizu chastised. Sakusa glared at her, then settled reluctantly against Ushijima’s side. “Has the human learned enough of Miya’s fighting style to defend himself?” Sakusa was quiet for a moment, then sighed. 

“Shirabu seems to be nearly evenly matched with Miya when they spar,” Sakusa admitted. “So I must assume Shirabu would be able to hold his own against the majority of opponents he would face at the court, at least in a physical confrontation.” Terushima turned to Shimizu, expression triumphant. 

“Atsumu taught the human to fight; he’s fulfilled the terms Kyoomi set out,” Terushima insisted. “So I want him returned to me, for his own safety.” Shimizu sighed. 

“Very well. Kyoomi will return Miya Atsumu to your custody first thing tomorrow,” Shimizu decided. “That will allow him time to give Shirabu any last-minute instruction and to ensure no one can outright accuse any of us of being afraid of the minor nobles,” she explained when Terushima looked like he was going to protest. “Besides, this is still a punishment, Yuuji.” Wordlessly - probably afraid that if he spoke out of turn, Shimizu would change her mind - Terushima bowed, and kept his head down until the others were left. Ushijima and Sakusa were the last to leave, and both gave Terushima quick glare before they headed back to Sakusa’s wing of the palace. 

* * *

Fukunaga watched and waited, sure that his guests would get around to talking eventually. As he'd expected, they had arrived through a poorly-constructed demon portal, which told him that the demon who'd made it and stepped through it was fairly young, and definitely hadn't been properly taught how to make a portal large enough for two people, because he almost cut the mage accompanying him in half as she followed the demon through said portal. 

 _What a shame,_ Fukunaga thought.  _Perhaps being cut in half would limit how much of my time Nametsu can steal._  

"You're thinking something awful, aren't you?" the mage, one Nametsu Mai, bodyguard to that ice-hearted princess the vampires followed, muttered. Fukunaga blinked his catlike eyes slowly and didn't dignify her comment with a response. "That's what I thought," she sighed. 

"He didn't say anything," the demon beside her protested. Fukunaga scanned the demon, and once he noticed how uncertain the young creature was, how he shifted his weight from foot to foot, how he leaned back toward where his portal had been, as though he wanted to fall back through it to the demon realm, Fukunaga decided that this demon must be the reason Nametsu had inflicted her presence upon him. Fukunaga turned his full attention to the demon, who gulped and then slid a polite expression into place. "Nice to meet you. I'm Daishou Suguru, and I presume you're the hunt-mage Nametsu said might be able to help me." Fukunaga curled his lip in a sneer and looked away. "Or I mean you could just ignore me, but if you're not going to help me find Komi, at least just say so. You don't have to be a dick about it," the demon muttered, his mask slipping in his irritation. Fukunaga resisted the urge to glance back at him despite his sudden interest, stemming from Daishou's changes in attitude and also the name he'd dropped. 

"Komi? Haruki?" Fukunaga repeated. What had his dead apprentice turned demon done now that this brat was looking for him, and Nametsu thought Fukunaga was required to find him?

 


	23. Another One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO I KNOW IT'S BEEN LIKE THREE MONTHS AND I'M REALLY SORRY BUT I'VE HAD AWFUL WRITER'S BLOCK AND I'M SORRY BUT HERE'S A CHAPTER TO PROVE I'M NOT DEAD AND NEITHER IS THIS AU.

“This is Hoshiumi Kourai. He’ll guide you to your room,” Moniwa said, gesturing to the young blond vampire he’d called to his office. Komi eyed the kid warily. A vampire that small couldn’t be old enough to entrust with errands, could he?

“I know what you’re thinking, asshole,” the little vampire called Hoshiumi snapped. “And you’re barely taller than me, so don’t get all high and mighty, midget.” Komi blinked, unsure what to say. 

“Kourai! Apologize to our guest right now! Don’t be so rude!” Moniwa scolded. Hoshiumi frowned and crossed his arms. 

“Why? He was just thinking about how short I am, like it’s something to be ashamed of or something. Just because I’m not a giant like Kenji used to be-”

“Kourai!” Moniwa hissed. 

“Kenji?” Komi repeated. There couldn’t be that many vampires named Kenji, could there?

“Yeah. Futakuchi Kenji. The stupid royals - I mean, he broke the rules, and he got punished,” Hoshiumi hastily corrected himself when Moniwa’s eyes narrowed. 

“He’s a good kid. Really skilled,” Komi said without thinking. Moniwa and Hoshiumi both tensed. 

“Kenji is dead,” Moniwa said flatly. Komi hesitated, then decided what the hell. Futakuchi was one of the demons who still didn’t know much about where he came from, who he was before his death, because no one Komi or Konoha knew could tell them anything about him. 

“He’s a demon, now,” Komi told them. “He doesn’t remember much, just a few snippets from right before he died.” Komi turned to Hoshiumi and added, “Maybe you could tell me what you remember about him while you show me my room?” Hoshiumi’s eyes were wide and overbright. 

“I already know what he was like. Tell me about what he’s like now!” Hoshiumi demanded. Komi bit back a chuckle. He should’ve known the kid would want to hear about Futakuchi before talking about his own memories. 

“Sure. I think I can do that. First of all, Kenji’s really good with his portals. He’s very precise about how he wants them to work, so…”

* * *

 

Goshiki woke with a burning in his throat and terror clouding his mind. The last thing he remembered was vampire blood burning its way through his body, a hand on his throat cutting off his air, and a familiar voice floating above the sound of his own screams. He opened his eyes, but he couldn’t see. He tried to sit up, but something held him down. Straps around his wrists, ankles, across his chest…

He couldn’t move. 

He opened his mouth to call for help, and his lips cracked. A faint citrus scent reached him, but Goshiki barely noticed it because a moment later, it was washed away by a sharp, sweetly metallic scent. Something soft pressed against against his lips, and warm, thick liquid trickled over his tongue. It coated his throat, washing away the awful burning ache in his throat. Goshiki wanted to reach up, hold whatever was pouring that beautiful, delicious liquid into his mouth in place, but he couldn’t lift his hands because of the restraints, so he settled for stretching his neck, trying to lock his mouth around whatever it was, but then the flow of liquid stopped. 

Goshiki whined and struggled against his restraints, but they held him down. 

“Tsutomu, relax, everything’s going to be okay.” Goshiki knew that voice. 

“Hayato?” he croaked. “Hayato, what’s happening?” There was a pause, and then gentle fingers carded through his hair. 

“You’re going to be alright, Tsutomu,” Yamagata told him. Goshiki trembled and tried to turn his head, looking for Yamagata, but he still couldn’t see anything. “If you promise not to bite me, I’ll take the blindfold off.” Goshiki couldn’t see anything because he was blindfolded. He didn’t know why he was blindfolded, or why he was restrained, or why Yamagata thought he would bite him. All he knew was that his throat still hurt a little, and he was scared and confused, and Yamagata was acting strange. “Tsutomu. Promise.” Goshiki nodded despite not knowing why, but then there was a light tugging at the fabric covering his eyes, and the blindfold fell away. “There. Better?” Yamagata asked, leaning over him and smoothing Goshiki’s bangs into place where they’d been messed up by the blindfold. Goshiki took a breath, about to ask what was going on again, but that same enticing scent from before, metallic and sweet, overwhelmed him for a moment, and he craned his neck and inhaled again, more carefully this time, trying to figure out where that smell was coming from. As soon as Yamagata noticed his nostrils flaring, he pulled his hand back. “You promised, Tsutomu.” Goshiki’s forehead wrinkled. He wasn’t going to bite Yamagata. He just wanted to know what that smell was and where it was coming from. He didn’t know why Yamagata thought Goshiki would bite him. That smell was really distracting, though… Goshiki licked his lips and froze as something sharp touched his tongue. He carefully ran his tongue over his teeth, and found that they were much sharper than he remembered. 

“Hayato?” Goshiki whispered, his voice shaking as he tried to reach up to feel his teeth - his  _ fangs? _ \- with his fingers, only to be reminded that he was strapped down. “Hayato, what’s-”

“I don’t know, Tsutomu. But I think...I think that vampire we were hunting might’ve turned you into one of them.”

* * *

 

“He’s going back,” Sakusa announced as soon as he and Ushijima returned to Sakusa’s rooms, where Oikawa, Yahaba, and Kuroo had been waiting since they heard Sakusa had been meeting with the other royals. “Yuuji convinced Kiyoko to order me to return Miya to him tomorrow morning.” 

“Shirabu isn’t going to take that well,” Oikawa murmured. 

“He’s human. They’re used to things not lasting. He’ll be fine,” Kuroo replied with a shrug. “Besides, he has that little snake, right?”

“Kuroo, don’t be an ass,” Yahaba sighed. “Remember that out of Sakusa’s three advisors, you’re the only one without a human lover.”

“Yes, and what are you going to do about yours? You can’t let that hunter of yours contract you like Oikawa. So are you going to do like Miya and crawl back to Terushima when-”

“Tetsurou, if you don’t want Yahaba to boil your blood in your veins, you should stop talking now,” Sakusa interrupted. “And none of us should be happy about Miya being returned to Yuuji. Besides this restoring Yuuji’s confidence that he can get away with more than he should, Lord Suna is due back soon, and you know what that means.” 

“The other one will be back,” Oikawa groaned. “And he’ll be pissed that Terushima still has his precious little brother.” 

“I forgot there were two,” Kuroo muttered. “One is bad enough.” 

“We say that about you and Bokuto all the time,” Oikawa informed him. 

“Fuck you, Bokuto and I are an awesome pair. Getting both of  _ them _ together is a disaster waiting to happen,” Kuroo protested. Oikawa and Yahaba glanced at each other. 

“We say that about you and Bokuto all the time,” they chorused. 

“Focus,” Sakusa snapped, drawing all three of them back to the matter at hand. “We have to prepare for every possibility.”

“Including the possibility that Shirabu won’t accept Miya going back?” Yahaba asked softly. 

“Yes. Including that.”


	24. Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so apparently to get me to be productive again you just have to trap me in an airport with nothing to do...

Miya kept his composure as Yahaba delivered the news. Shirabu’s fingers curled into fists, and Miya put his hand gently over Shirabu’s. The human shot him an unreadable look, then fixed his gaze on the floor and forced his fingers to relax. Then he pulled his hand away from Miya’s. Miya didn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t say nothing. 

“You knew this would happen eventually,” Miya tried, using his focus on Shirabu to avoid examining his own emotions. “We both did.” 

“Don’t,” Shirabu said quietly. “Go, or stay here for the night. It’s up to you. But I’m going to meet up with someone.”

“Your hood,” Miya reminded him, not knowing what else to say. Shirabu glanced across the room, to where the cape and attached hood rested, then shook his head and reached for a scarf instead. Shirabu wrapped the cloth around his neck, then stepped outside the room. There was a moment of silence, and then Kuguri stood from where he’d been sitting against the wall, listening, and followed Shirabu out. 

“You could stay, you know,” Yahaba murmured. “Not just the night. You could stay here. You don’t have to go back to Terushima.” 

“And abandon him like you did?” Miya scoffed. “I don’t think so.” 

“Then why are you so worried about Shirabu?” Yahaba replied pointedly. “There’s more to life than slowly dying inside just to spare Terushima’s feelings.” 

“I know that,” Miya admitted, glancing at the door for a second before he forced his attention back to the blood mage in front of him. “But Terushima has been my whole world for years. I’m not going to give up on him now.” 

“Maybe he was your whole world. But now your world is a little bigger, I think,” Yahaba told him. “And that’s not a bad thing, Miya. Whether you and Shirabu end up as friends or more, or even if you never talk to him again, he’s been good for you. You finally paid attention to someone besides Terushima, and that’s  _ good. _ Don’t let Terushima ruin what you’ve started to build with Shirabu, okay?”

“He’s going to die eventually,” Miya snapped. “Kenjirou, not Yuuji. He’s going to get old, and I’d rather stay with the one who’s always going to be there than-”

“He won’t, though,” Yahaba interrupted. “Terushima, I mean. He won’t always be there. He’ll only be there when he wants to be, not when you need him the most. Give it some thought tonight. And I guess we’ll all know your decision in the morning.” Yahaba gave him a look that was half frustration and half pity. Miya forced himself to meet that look without showing just how much it hurt to face this decision so soon. 

Terushima was his everything...or he had been. The prince had plucked him out of a string of bad relationships, given him a home and something - someone - to help him move on. He’d given himself completely to Terushima, and he didn’t know how to take that back, or even if he wanted to. As long as Terushima wanted him back, as long as Terushima valued him, Miya could believe he had value beyond his own meager rank. 

But there was a softness to Shirabu, and a fierceness that was directed toward protecting the people he cared about instead of self-preservation. Shirabu would give everything - his time, his blood, his life - to protect someone he cared about. Miya admired that, wanted to stay beside Shirabu and make sure the human didn’t actually get himself killed, but…

Neither option had a guarantee, Yahaba was right about that. 

But Miya knew who he was when he was with Terushima. He wasn’t sure who he’d become if he stayed with Shirabu. Miya closed his eyes and bowed his head. 

“So that’s your choice, huh?” Yahaba sounded sad, but not surprised. Miya didn’t answer.

* * *

 

There were many, many things Fukunaga wished he didn’t have to deal with. Defensive mages who thought they could just show up whenever they wanted and ask him to track people down was close to the top of that list. Foolish dead apprentices who ran off instead of actually talking to people and working things out probably topped it, though. 

“So, are you going to help?” Nametsu asked. The defensive mages who demanded tracking jobs from him climbed a few notches closer to foolish dead apprentices on the list of things Fukunaga didn’t want to deal with. 

_ You could just wait for him to come back. Komi is old enough to handle himself without his old mentor tracking him down,  _ was what Fukunaga was tempted to say, but that was blatantly ignoring the fact that the current situation seemed to heavily imply that Komi was not in fact old enough to handle himself. So Fukunaga didn’t say it. Instead, he turned his attention to the young demon who’d invaded his home alongside Nametsu. 

“Daishou, correct?” Fukunaga murmured. The demon jumped, then seemed to regain his composure.

“So you can talk after all,” the demon observed. 

“I  _ can _ talk,” Fukunaga agreed.  _ But I don’t want to. People rarely actually listen, after all. _

“Can you tell me if you’ll help me find Komi or not?” the demon asked, arching one eyebrow. Fukunaga felt his lips start to curl in amusement, but he made sure his expression didn’t shift enough for the demon to notice. It wouldn’t do to let him realize Fukunaga maybe didn’t find him as annoying as he could have. Fukunaga inclined his head shortly. “I’ll take that as a yes, but that doesn’t actually count as an answer,” the demon told him. Daishou, he’d said his name was, right? Fukunaga simply lifted his head and blinked slowly at him. “No wonder Komi died. You probably killed him with this silent mysterious routine,” Daishou accused. Fukunaga couldn’t quite stop his lips from twitching that time, and the triumph and satisfaction that flashed in Daishou’s eyes was even more amuzing.

“Very well. I will track Komi for you. But I will not contact him or sort out whatever mess he is in. That is for him and the demon I entrusted him to to sort out,” Fukunaga said. Nametsu gaped at him, apparently stunned that he’d spoken so much at once. Daishou’s expression slipped slightly, showing Fukunaga a glimpse of a smirk. Fukunaga ducked his head, partly to hide his face and partly so he could concentrate. After all, if Komi was using the tricks he’d learned since becoming a demon, it would take more than usual to find him. Fukunaga reached out, a suppressed hum almost reaching his lips as he extended his awareness, searching for the old bond he’d once had between his own magic and Komi’s. It was the only thing that allowed him to track the little fool while he was actively trying not to be found. Of course, Fukunaga told himself he was just doing it to make the pair go away faster. But he really wanted to give Daishou something as a reward for actually making Fukunaga feel something besides irritation towards a visitor, and he knew it.

* * *

 

“He could decide to stay,” Kuguri pointed out as he draped himself across Shirabu’s lap. The human hadn’t spoken the whole time as he’d made his way out of Sakusa’s wing of the palace and out to one of the guard towers along the palace wall. At the top, Shirabu had sat in the middle of the platform, and Kuguri had taken that as a sign that Shirabu was ready for him to pester him about Miya. 

“He won’t,” Shirabu replied softly, bringing one hand up to run through Kuguri’s hair. The vampire hummed and eyed Shirabu thoughtfully. 

“You want him to, though,” Kuguri observed. 

“Don’t,” Shirabu warned. 

“Someone has to, and Sakusa’s followers all seem to be ready to walk on eggshells around you about it, so that leaves me,” Kuguri informed him. “You want him to stay.” Shirabu sighed and tilted his head back, eyes closed and lips pursed for a second. 

“I do,” he admitted. “I want him to realize he deserves so much better than Terushima.”

“You want him to choose you,” Kuguri added. Shirabu let out a humorless little laugh. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. But I can’t make him choose the way I want him to, and I know what he’s going to do. I’m so stupid,” Shirabu whispered. “I knew he was going back. I knew I wouldn’t be able to change his mind. But then he seemed to hesitate, to  _ care, _ and I thought for a second I had a chance. So I kissed him, and he kissed me back, and…”

“I don’t need the details,” Kuguri informed him, trying to lighten the mood when Shirabu trailed off. Shirabu didn’t answer, so Kuguri tilted his head, trying to see Shirabu’s expression without sitting up. Shirabu tilted his face down, drawing a shuddering breath and curling his shoulders in on himself a little. A single tear track shone on his cheek. “Kenjirou…” Kuguri sat up, brushed his thumb over the human’s cheek in an attempt to wipe away the dampness. 

“I know he’ll always put his prince first, I  _ know _ that, but…” Shirabu’s voice shook. “I still got my hopes up, even though I knew better. And it hurts, Drakonchik. I knew it would, but it hurts more than I thought it could.” His whole body was trembling now, and Kuguri decided it was time to reverse their earlier positions and pull Shirabu onto his lap. Shirabu’s face tucked into his neck, his tears warm and wet against Kuguri’s skin. 

He could tell the human it would get better, it would get easier, it would stop hurting. But he knew that wouldn’t really help. So instead he settled for holding Shirabu close, and resolved that anyone who came across them and tried to comment on the human’s tears would get thrown off the tower. 


	25. For the Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys this is chapter is a huge deal for me. Writing the second scene flowed so nicely and Ushijima actually ran away with my scene. I think I'm finally comfortable writing him (At least for right now).

Miya was on Shirabu’s couch when he and Kuguri returned. Shirabu had shifted his scarf, wrapping it around his head so his face was hidden in shadow. From the glare Kuguri sent Miya’s way, however, it didn’t look like Shirabu was taking Miya’s decision well. The fact that Shirabu walked right past him, into his bedroom, and closed the door without so much as glancing Miya’s way confirmed it. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Kuguri’s voice made him jump; he hadn’t realized the vampire hadn’t followed Shirabu into the bedroom. “I mean, I get that Terushima is a prince, but he’s never been loyal to one lover. He’s never taken other people’s feelings into account. And he’s not going to change for you.” Miya tried to hide how much that hurt, but he was pretty sure Kuguri noticed anyway. 

“Well, Kenjirou will just turn to you once I’m gone, won’t he? So why do you care?” Miya replied, trying for a teasing tone and failing. Instead, he just sounded bitter. 

“If you really believed that, you shouldn’t give up on him so easily,” Kuguri replied, something that might have been pity flashing in his expression before a smirk completely at odds with his usual sleepy look twisted his lips. “But sure, let’s say you’re right. You leave, and I have Kenjirou all to myself. He’ll forget about you, forget your kisses and how you’re the one who’s done so much to keep him safe. Maybe I’ll even let him contract me, join Sakusa’s faction. I’ll have everything that could have been yours, if only you would just pull your head out of Terushima’s ass.” 

“If you started to care about someone besides Shirabu, would you abandon him for them?” Miya said quietly.

“So you’re back to calling him Shirabu, huh?” Kuguri shook his head. “You’re a fool, Miya.” He turned and went to the door to Shirabu’s bedroom. “You’ve made your bed - or rather, chosen whose bed you’ll be in - and now you’ll have to lay in it.” Miya watched as Kuguri knocked softly, then entered Shirabu’s bedroom. When the door closed behind him, shutting him out of Shirabu’s bedroom - and probably his life - it felt like something in Miya’s chest broke.

* * *

 

“Sakusa?” Ushijima rumbled. Sakusa’s shoulders hunched the slightest bit as he glanced at his contractor. 

“Yes, Wakatoshi?” Sakusa replied, stressing Ushijima’s name slightly. 

“May I ask who you and the others were talking about?” Ushijima questioned. Sakusa frowned at him, then seemed to push away his disgruntlement at not being addressed by his given name.

“You mean Suna? He’s an old noble, who decided to leave court and spend an extended period exploring the far reaches of Kiyoko’s northern estates with his lover.” Sakusa’s expression was more fixed than usual, and Ushijima picked up on it immediately. He might not be good at reading most people, but since their contract was formed, almost all of his attention had been on the prince. Sakusa was hiding something from him. 

“I see.” If Sakusa wanted to keep him in the dark, that was fine. Ushijima reached for the cloth mask sitting on the low table in front of the couch - Kuroo had brought a newly made one from the mage Ushijima kept hearing about but had yet to meet - and ran the soft, spelled fabric through his fingers for a moment, trying to decide whether to press the issue or not. Ushijima glanced at the prince, remembered that he’d kept his head angled away from most of his allies when they’d been discussing Miya’s return to Terushima. The loss of his original mask must have been getting to him. Ushijima stepped closer to the prince, held up the mask. Sakusa blinked at him for a moment, then nodded. Ushijima lifted the mask to Sakusa’s face, smoothed the strings to hold it over his nose and mouth into place. His fingers were careful as he tugged a bit of Sakusa’s hair out from where it had been caught in the mask’s strings. Ushijima took a moment to admire the way Sakusa relaxed as the mask slid into place, and while he was puzzled by the way Sakusa seemed to inhale deeply, Ushijima pushed his confusion aside. Sakusa still looked stiff, but Ushijima wasn’t sure what to do about it. The vampire wasn’t sick or something, was he? Ushijima cupped Sakusa’s cheeks and gently tilted his head down so Ushijima could kiss his forehead. No, he wasn’t warmer than usual, although Ushijima wasn’t sure if vampires got fevers. Could they even actually get sick? Ushijima stepped back and frowned at the little whine that escaped Sakusa’s lips, muffled by the mask but not enough to stop the human from hearing it. 

“You’ll stay with me tonight, right?” Sakusa whispered, reaching out to catch Ushijima’s sleeve when he started to turn away. Ushijima lifted his hand and slowly uncurled Sakusa’s fingers from his shirt. 

“Not tonight, your highness. I must see what information I can find about this Suna, so I can protect you if necessary when he arrives, as I have heard Oikawa and the others often mention how frequently older vampires oppose the treaty with the humans.” Sakusa’s eyes flew wide, and he fidgeted for a moment. His voice was soft and vulnerable when he spoke again. 

“Is this because I blew off your question?” Sakusa asked. “Are you doing this on purpose?” Ushijima tilted his head, unsure what Sakusa meant. “Are you...the mask. You got your hands all over it. I can’t smell anything but you right now. And you put it on for me and then you kissed my forehead…” Ushijima tilted his head the other way. “And now you’re just going to walk away?” 

“If you would rather I stay by your side right now, I can always inquire about Lord Suna later,” Ushijima replied. Sakusa let out a frustrated growl, yanked down the cloth mask so it was hooked under his chin, and then seized Ushijima’s shirt and hauled him closer until he could press his lips to Ushijima’s. After a moment, Sakusa’s mouth separated from his, but the prince kept his grip on Ushijima’s shirt as he lowered his head to tuck his face against the human’s neck, breathing in his scent. 

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to start thinking I was going to replace you again,” Sakusa murmured, his lips brushing Ushijima’s skin and making him shiver. Ushijima slid one arm around the prince’s waist and lifted his other hand to stroke through his hair, deciding not to tell Sakusa that Ushijima had never stopped thinking that. Instead, he pushed that thought down and focused on Sakusa, because that seemed to be what the vampire wanted. “Suna used to be really low-ranking. But then he got himself promoted...by seducing higher ranked vampires.” 

“Including you,” Ushijima guessed. “Semi allowed that?”

“Eita liked him, thought he could be trustworthy. He was good at reading situations. He was with us kind of the same way Oikawa used to be. I gave him rank and influence, and I trusted him, but he didn’t like staying at court, and he didn’t stay with the same person long, at least until his current lover. He’s been away for so long pretty much everyone has forgotten him,” Sakusa explained without lifting his head. Ushijima was quiet for a moment, until he felt Sakusa’s lips pull back and his fangs scraped lightly over Ushijima’s skin. Ushijima tilted his head, this time just to give Sakusa more room. 

“You cared for him,” Ushijima observed. One of Sakusa’s fangs caught on his skin, drawing a single drop of blood, and Ushijima couldn’t stop the little noise of complaint that welled up in his throat. If Sakusa was going to bite him he should just do it. This playing around, almost sinking his fangs in but not quite, wasn’t fair. 

“In a way. But it was a very, very long time ago, and I have you now, and he has his own beloved,” Sakusa replied, lifting his head just enough to catch Ushijima’s earlobe in his teeth and tug. Ushijima closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the teasing. “I mean it, Wakatoshi. You’re mine, and I don’t want anyone else. If you doubt it, you could always just order me to-” Sakusa’s words broke off as Ushijima’s hands went to his shoulders and pushed him back until Ushijima could frown directly into his eyes. 

“I would never,” Ushijima rumbled. 

“You could, though. You could order me to love you, to not want anyone else,” Sakusa insisted. Ushijima shook his head, searching for a way to express just how much he didn’t want to do that. 

“I would never take away your freedom,” Ushijima said at last. “I would never force you to stay with me. I know that you don’t-”

“I do, though,” Sakusa interrupted. He stepped closer again, Ushijima’s grip on his shoulders going limp in surprise. Sakusa’s voice was quiet as he continued, “I trust you just as much as I ever trusted Eita. He was my best friend, the only one I could rely on. And I needed him, loved him even, but you’re different. Wakatoshi,” Sakusa murmured, his lips shaping Ushijima’s name so gently that it pulled him in, and Ushijima found himself leaning closer, until his forehead rested against Sakusa’s. “Eita never had any true power over me. But you do. The fact that you’re so determined not to use it is one of the things that makes you so precious to me, one of the things that makes you absolutely irreplaceable. And I know you don’t believe that, but eventually I’ll convince you. I know you won’t believe me easily, not after how I acted when the demons showed up. But because of our contract, I have forever to convince you. You’re mine, Wakatoshi, but I swear to you that I’m yours, too.” 

The problem, Ushijima realized, was that he wanted to believe the vampire. He wanted Sakusa’s words to be true, and he could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, could even feel it in the way Sakusa shifted beneath his hands, still resting on the prince’s shoulders, that Sakusa meant what he said. Sakusa truly believed his own words in that moment, and Ushijima felt something in his chest warm up and flutter at that, but the feeling was counteracted by the heavy feeling in his stomach that reminded him that Sakusa meaning his words right then didn’t mean he would always feel that way. 

Sakusa was watching him, his eyes swimming with determination and hope and something Ushijima refused to let himself identify, waiting for the human to reply. Ushijima tilted his head just enough to press his lips to Sakusa’s for a moment, accepting his words, even if it was just for the moment. 


	26. Reunions, Actual and In Progress

Miya hesitated outside the door to Terushima’s rooms. He knew Terushima wanted him back - if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have made such a fuss about getting Miya back early - but it felt strange to be back in Terushima’s wing of the palace, instead of Sakusa’s wing with Shirabu. It felt like this place belonged to who he was before, although he refused to think about what had happened that would mean who he was before it was different than who he was now. It was ridiculous, really. Probably just his imagination. After all, he’d only been training Shirabu for a few weeks, and hadn’t known the human much longer than that. 

Those few weeks didn’t matter, anyway. Miya belonged to Terushima; he always would. That was the end of it. 

Miya walked in without knocking.

“Atsumu!” Miya was nearly knocked off his feet by Terushima, who threw himself into Miya’s arms. Miya slid his own arms around Terushima’s waist without even thinking about it. He’d been with Terushima so long that he didn’t have to be fully aware of what he was doing sometimes. His body knew how to move, how to hold the prince without conscious direction from him. It was muscle memory. It was instinct. It was  _ belonging. _ Miya ducked his head, pressed his face into the crook of Terushima’s neck, and inhaled deeply, breathing in the prince’s -  _ his _ prince’s - scent. He let the warmth, the familiarity, the devotion he’d felt for Terushima since day one, wash over him, easing him away from thoughts of a human determined to get himself killed for the people he cared about and back toward only worrying about what Terushima needed. 

“Yuuji,” Miya sighed, his hands moving on their own, gliding up Terushima’s back, then down to his hips to pull his body closer. Miya couldn’t help but notice the difference in how Terushima’s body fit in his hands, and the thought flickered across his mind that he preferred Shirabuon top of him, glaring down at him, over Terushima smirking up at him. Miya shook that thought away and shifted his hands, lifting Terushima’s shirt out of the way so Miya could run his finger’s over the muscles of the prince’s stomach. Terushima practically purred and rolled his hips against Miya’s. Miya brought his hands back to Terushima’s hips and pressed his fingers into smooth skin, hard enough to leave bruises, holding the prince still. Terushima pouted and tried to wiggle in his hold. “Come on, Atsumu. Don’t just stand there.” Shirabu would have just pulled him down for a kiss, or taunted him, instead of the way Terushima whined at him. Miya forced his hesitation away, reminding himself that Shirabu didn’t matter anymore. He was Terushima’s again. No, he’d never stopped being Terushima’s. He needed to remember that. Miya smirked - his lips didn’t quite move on their own, but it was close enough that he didn’t worry about it - and lifted Terushima, fitting his hands under the prince’s thighs to hoist him up. Terushima grinned and wrapped his legs around Miya’s waist, his arms coming up to loop around Miya’s neck. “Missed you,” Terushima breathed, his words a warm brush across Miya’s lips. Miya tilted his head, kissed the prince quickly before speaking. 

“I missed you, too,” Miya replied, trying to think what he’d say if he hadn’t… It wasn’t important. Assuring Terushima that Miya was his was what mattered. “Let me show you how much,” he added. That’s what he’d say if he had spent those weeks pining for Terushima without… Miya pushed that thought away and glanced over Terushima’s shoulder toward the door to the bedroom. 

“Why wait that long?” Terushima purred, tightening his legs and rolling his hips again. Of course he knew Miya was planning to carry him to the bed. “The wall right over there looks just fine to me. Unless that human tired you out with all that training,” he added playfully. The mention of Shirabu almost made Miya stiffen up, but he forced himself to stay focused on Terushima as he kissed him again, their lips sliding together perfectly, and Miya relaxed as his mouth remembered exactly how Terushima liked to be kissed. Miya only realized he’d started moving toward the wall when Terushima broke their kiss to gasp as his back hit it. Miya chuckled and took the chance to lower his mouth to Terushima’s neck. 

Yes, this was where he was supposed to be. With his prince, where he belonged, not falling in love with some strange human who was only going to die in a few years anyway.

* * *

 

Komi sensed something tug on the corner of his mind where his magic had rested once upon a time, and he knew he was going to be in trouble. But then the tug faded, and he shook the feeling away. That little connection wouldn’t be enough to let Fukunaga draw him in, wouldn’t be enough to affect him. So what was his former mentor trying to do? He couldn’t be looking for Komi; there was no way Konoha would be able to convince Fukunaga to help him. Fukunaga didn’t like people in general, but especially not demons - actually, come to think of it, vampires and other mages were higher on Fukunaga’s list of things he hated, but still - and he definitely didn’t help people for free. Not that Fukunaga helped people for money or anything, either. Komi honestly didn’t know what it was that motivated the mage, even though he’d trained with him for years before dying and becoming a demon. 

Komi sighed and shook his head. Fukunaga could just be bored and looking for a way to entertain himself. Pestering people seemed to occasionally amuse him, or at least as far as Komi could ever tell his mentor had seemed amused a few times after irritating someone. 

“Komi!” The little vampire, Hoshiumi, burst into Komi’s room. “Moniwa wants to talk to you! Right now!” The kid’s eyes were wide and scared, his posture tense, his muscles on the edge of trembling with how tightly wound up he was. 

“What’s wrong?” Komi asked, frowning worriedly at the kid. 

“There’s another demon here,” Hoshiumi blurted out, glancing over his shoulder like he was expecting the demon to appear behind him at any moment. And, Komi supposed, if it was one of the more accurate demons, they probably could. But why would there be a demon here? They couldn’t have sensed him; he’d made sure that - 

The tug. 

Fukunaga. 

Had Konoha actually managed to motivate Fukunaga? Why? He should be with Semi. He shouldn’t be trying to find Komi. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice huffed. Hoshiumi screamed. Komi scowled and grabbed the kid’s arm, pulling him into the room and pushing him behind himself. “This place has, like, no security.” Daishou stood in the hallway just outside Komi’s doorway.

“Daishou? What the fu…” Komi trailed off and glanced at the young vampire now safely behind him. “What are you doing here? Your portals aren’t accurate enough to get in.” 

“I walked in,” Daishou answered with a shrug. “Like I said, there’s no security to speak of. The one old vampire here sent the kid to fetch you, so I just followed him. The old one probably isn’t too far behind, so-”

Daishou disappeared in a blur of black hair and fury as Moniwa threw himself at the young demon. 

“Moniwa, wait!” Komi shouted, darting to the doorway and peering out into the hallway, where Daishou had managed to wriggle away from Moniwa’s attack and was backing down the hallway, hands up defensively. 

“I told you I’m not here to hurt him or anything, so there’s no reason to kill me. I just want to talk to him.”

“When I’m gone ripping you to pieces, shadow, I’m going to kill Komi too, since he’s the reason you’re here, and I don’t allow binding demons near the children no matter what their intentions are.” 

“Binding? What? Just - hey, we can talk about this!” Daishou insisted. 

“Moniwa! Not in front of Hoshiumi!” Komi snapped, noticing that the kid had followed him, clinging to the back of his shirt and peering over Komi’s shoulder. At the young vampire’s name, Moniwa paused, but his gaze never left Daishou. 

“I just want to talk to Komi. I need to make sure he’s okay, so I can tell Konoha that he’s not dead or captured or something, okay? Then I’ll leave, and I’ll never come back, and I won’t even tell anyone how I found you,” Daishou said quickly. Komi hesitated. 

“You will leave now, or I’ll-”

“Rip me to pieces, yes, I got that,” Daishou muttered. “Komi. Are you okay here?” 

“I’m fine. I’m just giving Aki space to see how things go with Semi,” Komi assured him. “Now go.” A portal appeared behind Daishou. 

“Things aren’t going,” Daishou told him seriously. “Semi’s beating himself up for coming between you and Konoha, and precious little Akinori is beside himself worrying about you while trying to tell Semi it’s not his fault. They’re a mess, and it’s all because you couldn’t manage to talk things out properly with your lover.” Moniwa advanced on Daishou, who took a step back, one foot passing through the portal. “I’ll tell them you’re alive and well, but neither of them is going to so much as think about doing anything until they talk to you. So have fun with your little vacation while those two are trapped in limbo, tormenting themselves for driving you away.” With that, Daishou took one more step back, passing through the portal completely. It winked out of existence a moment later, and Moniwa glared at the spot Daishou had been. Komi’s knees shook. 

Konoha was blaming himself? Worrying over him instead of taking his chance to finally be with Semi? Komi’s knees shook. He’d just wanted to give Konoha space. 

No, that was a lie. He hadn’t wanted to give Konoha a chance to break up with him, to say he wanted Semi more. He hadn’t wanted the alternative, either, that Konoha would stay with him but continue pining after Semi forever. Komi hadn’t wanted Konoha to choose, because either way, it would hurt. So Komi had run away. 

“I have to go back,” Komi said softly. “I have to face Aki and make him understand.”

“It sounds like you’re the one who doesn’t understand.” It was Hoshiumi who spoke, his fingers curling into a fist in Komi’s shirt. “I don’t know what’s going on, but those people care about you. You can’t just abandon them, even if it hurts,” the little vampire added, his voice shaking. “You can’t just...you can’t abandon people. You just can’t.” Hoshiumi fell silent, and Komi turned and patted the kid’s head. 

“I’m going back. I’ll fix this,” Komi said firmly. Hoshiumi blinked at him, eyes too bright as he bit the inside of his cheek. Komi paused, then made himself smile at the kid. “You’re right; I shouldn’t have abandoned them in the first place.” Komi’s own portal appeared above his head. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Moniwa spoke up. “But if you come back here, I might have to kill you. So don’t.” Komi blinked at him, then nodded. 

“I understand. You have to keep your charges safe. Thank you for letting me hide here,” Komi added. He didn’t give either vampire a chance to say anything else, instead slipping into his true form and launching himself toward the ceiling, through the portal. First, he’d face Konoha and Semi and figure something out. Then he’d have to remember to figure out how the hell Daishou had apparently gotten Fukunaga to help him find Komi. Oh, and he had to remember to ask around and find out what the hell Moniwa meant when he called Daishou a binding demon. 


	27. Blood Tells

Miya woke up with an armful of sleepy blond vampire prince, Terushima’s hair in disarray and some of it sticking up enough to tickle Miya’s nose from where Terushima’s head was tucked against his neck. One of Terushima’s legs was thrown over Miya’s waist, and Miya told himself it wasn’t weird how Terushima sprawled across him instead of curling against his side like Shirabu did when they sat together. 

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” Miya jolted and hissed in surprise. He hadn’t realized Terushima was awake. 

“What are you talking about?” Miya asked, craning his neck to try to get a look at Terushima’s expression. 

“The human. You’re thinking about him again. You were thinking about him a lot before, too,” Terushima said softly. “You tried to hide it, but I know you too well.” 

“I’m not…” 

“Atsumu.” Miya fell silent, and Terushima sat up, shifted so he was straddling Miya’s hips, staring down at him. There was something dark in the prince’s eyes, something Miya had only seen a few times, and usually only when Yahaba was mentioned. “You’re mine, and you’ve belonged to me for years. I know when you’re trying to lie or hide something from me.” Miya frowned up at Terushima, reached for his waist. His fingers paused without his permission, hesitating over the sharp angle of the prince’s hips, somehow less familiar, less right in his hands than Shirabu’s had been. “See? You just thought about him again.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to,” Miya said quickly. He needed to reassure Terushima; obviously the entire previous day spent alone together trying to make up for lost time hadn’t been enough. 

“I know,” Terushima assured him, fingertips gliding over Miya’s chest. He traced Miya’s collarbones for a moment, admiring the bruises he’d sucked into Miya’s skin over the last day since Miya had returned to him. Apparently changing the subject - or just getting distracted - Terushima leaned down and pressed the tips of his fangs to the side of Miya’s neck. “I want your blood.” 

“You know you can have it whenever you want,” Miya murmured, tilting his head back to give his prince more room. “Just like before.” Terushima hummed. 

“Before you met Shirabu Kenjirou, you mean,” Terushima mused, his fangs pressing just a little harder. “You haven’t been really focused since you met him.” Miya started to protest, but Terushima’s fangs pierced his skin and a gasp drove any words he might have been planning to say from him all at once. 

Terushima drank more slowly than usual, taking his time to process the flavor of Miya’s blood. There was the same dedication - a thick, rich undertone to Miya’s blood that had always been there - and admiration - light and sweet - but now as Miya thought about Shirabu, because of course he was thinking about the human right after Terushima had mentioned him, there was a new swirl of flavors. There was a sharp, bitter tang of guilt on the surface, but underneath that was a rush of painfully obvious emotion - protectiveness, irritation, yes, but overwhelmingly something  _ else _ that Terushima hadn’t tasted in Miya’s blood before. This new flavor was so overwhelming, so smooth and sweet and just... _ more. _ Terushima didn’t have the words to describe what he was tasting, except that he’d felt that same flavor pouring over his tongue when Yahaba had let him drink his blood. 

Love. 

Miya was in love. 

And not the devoted, reverent love he had for Terushima. This was different. This was the kind of consuming, bright, fierce love that Yahaba had once had for Terushima, the flavor Sakusa had once described having tasted in Semi’s blood. But Terushima had never tasted the full ensamble of emotions from Miya; Miya had always been utterly devoted to Terushima, but Terushima had always been above him, unattainable, and Miya had always known Terushima didn’t return his feelings.

But now...Miya was in love, and it wasn’t with Terushima. 

“Yuuji? Is something wrong?” Miya’s voice was uncertain, and his blood soured a bit with concern. Terushima bit down harder, and Miya gasped as his skin tore, widening the previously painless wounds. Miya was  _ his, _ no one else’s, and Terushima was going to remind him of that. “Yuuji? Yuuji, that’s too much,” Miya protested, his fingers tightening on Terushima’s hips like he wanted to push him off. “Yuuji, wait. You can have more later, but I can’t-” Terushima brought one hand up to wrap around Miya’s throat, below where Terushima was drinking his blood. Miya tensed at the obvious threat. “Yuuji…?”

Terushima ignored him. As long as Miya held still like he was supposed to, Terushima would make sure Miya didn’t have the energy to think about anything but what was in front of him - or rather,  _ who _ was in front of him - until he completely forgot about that stupid human.

* * *

 

Goshiki was starving. His stomach ached, his throat was on fire, and his body wasn’t even straining against his restraints when he tried to struggle anymore. He’d been refusing to eat or drink anything since Yamagata had told him that he seemed to have been transformed into a vampire. Yamagata had tried to coerce him to drink, but Goshiki had refused. Reon had even tried pinching Goshiki’s nose shut to make him open his mouth and swallow the blood, but Goshiki had just held his breath until he nearly passed out. The only reason he didn’t was because Reon had backed off. 

It had been days, but Goshiki was determined not to become one of the monsters that he’d spent his whole life hunting. Just because Ushijima had left with one, and taken Shirabu with him, that didn’t mean Goshiki had to like vampires, or put up with being one. 

He’d died the moment that rogue vampire’s blood touched his lips. 

His body just didn’t know it yet. 

He was so hungry, though. 

So thirsty. 

He couldn’t stand it, and his mind was starting to get foggy. He couldn’t really think very well, couldn’t be sure how much time had passed. 

Something smelled delicious. 

That scent taunted him, wafted through the haze in his brain. 

“Take the cuffs off of him. Maybe if we move him back to his room he’ll cooperate.” 

Those sounds didn’t make any sense. Goshiki was pretty sure they were words, but he didn’t know what they meant. There was a draft on his wrists, his ankles. A light feeling across his chest. He didn’t know what it meant, but it was nice. 

“I’ll lift him.” 

More words. Or were they words? Something was touching him. Someone?

They smelled so good. 

Goshiki’s lips parted, and his turned his face in the direction of the smell, tasting the air eagerly. 

“He moved!”

“What’s he doing?”

Goshiki wanted to curl up and breathe in that nice smell, but his body had other ideas. He was wrapped up, lifted, warmed. Someone had picked him up. Maybe. He wasn’t sure. That amazing smell was a lot closer now. 

Goshiki tilted his head, pressed his nose against the source of that smell. Warm, sweet, faintly metallic but in a nice way. His lips slipped farther apart, and his tongue darted out. Something jumped beneath the swiping brush of his tongue, but his brain didn’t quite process the sensation.

“Yamagata, look out!” More strange noises, but Goshiki didn’t care that they didn’t make sense anymore. That smell was  _ right there,  _ telling him to bite and drink and get stronger again. 

It couldn’t hurt, right?

Just this once?

He was so tired, and he didn’t even have to move very much to get to it. 

Yeah, he could have some. 

Some what?

Didn’t matter. He could have it. It was right there, all he had to do was…

Bite. 

His fangs sank into something warm, soft. The taste was thicker, more...there was a word. There were words to describe this, but Goshiki couldn’t remember them. 

_ Life. Strength. Power. Survival. _

Those were the only words that mattered. 

Goshiki drank. 

Falling didn’t dislodge him; he simply hung on to whatever was giving him that amazing taste - though it was tainted after a mouthful or two with something bitter, like liquid fear - and when he hit something hard - it hurt, but not enough to make him stop - his fangs tore through whatever he was biting a little, but that just made the liquid pour out faster. 

And it was good, so good, he needed more. Needed to get stronger again, needed to survive. He had to…

Had to drink more…

More…

What was he drinking?

There was a shout, a groan, and oh no he was drinking blood. There was blood everywhere. In his mouth, in his stomach, some had spilled down his chin in his haste to gulp down  _ blood, human blood, he was drinking human blood. _

Goshiki screamed and threw himself away from the thing - the  _ person _ \- he’d bitten. 

Yamagata. 

Oh god, he’d been drinking Yamagata’s blood. 

Goshiki screamed again and scrambled to his feet. His body wanted to go back to the limp form on the floor - Yamagata was horribly still, blood starting to drip from his neck to the floor - and not let any of that delicious blood go to waste. 

But fear and revulsion overwhelmed his instincts, and Goshiki fled. He was terrified; if he’d killed Yamagata, he would never forgive himself. If Yamagata did survive, Goshiki couldn’t be around him. Couldn’t trust himself to live near him. 

Couldn’t trust himself to live at all, really. 

As Goshiki tore through the base, headed for the exit, he remembered a story. One about a vampire who’d turned his human love into a bloodsucker. They’d both been killed. 

Vampires didn’t allow humans to become one of them. 

Goshiki couldn’t try to starve himself again, because he’d just lose control and attack someone again. And it was obvious from how the hunters had tried to feed him that they weren’t going to kill him. 

So Goshiki turned toward the border and took off at full speed. 

If Yamagata and the others wouldn’t stop him from hurting people and taking their blood, maybe the border guards would.


	28. Reality

 

Komi stepped out of his portal, into the demon realm, and immediately regretted following Daishou back. Konoha was sitting on his bed - their bed - with his head in his hands. Komi could see that he was stressed, more than Komoi had ever seen him. Konoha’s true demon form was showing through the skin of the human illusion he’d fit himself into, and the inky blackness had an odd tint to it, a dead-looking gray that told Komi everything he needed to know.

“Aki,” Komi whispered. Konoha went rigid, and his fingers clenched in his own hair.

“Are you real?” Konoha rasped. Komi hesitated, unsure what he meant. “Because I’ve imagined you coming back so many times. I’ve dreamed about it. Prayed for it. As if a demon’s prayers mean anything. So...are you really here?” Komi crossed the room, covered Konoha’s hands with his own, then bent and pressed his lips to the top of Konoha’s head.

“I’m here, Aki. I’m so sorry. I just wanted-” Komi’s words were cut off as Konoha’s hands flew from his hair to Komi’s waist, his arms locking around Komi’s body and pulling him close. Komi stayed silent as Konoha trembled, his shoulders shaking and the tenuous hold he had on his human form slipping a little more, until his wings sprouted from his back. Komi gently lifted Konoha’s chin, pressed on his shoulder until he straightened, though he didn’t loosen his grip on Komi, so the smaller demon was pulled forward. But that was okay. Komi just let himself be pulled forward, used it to slide onto Konoha’s lap, straddling his thighs.

“Haruki,” Konoha choked, burying his face in Komi’s shoulder. “Haruki, Haruki, Haruki. You’re here, you’re really here.”

“Yeah,” Komi whispered, holding Konoha close as he settled more comfortably on Konoha’s lap. “I’m here, Aki.”

“You’re back!” That wasn’t Konoha’s voice. Komi twisted - Konoha’s arms tightened, restricting his movements - and got a glimpse of none other than Semi darting across the room. Komi wasn’t sure what to expect, but somehow he really, _really_ didn’t expect Semi to throw himself at them, his arms going around Komi and his head coming to rest on the shoulder Konoha hadn’t already commandeered. “We were so worried. And then Daishou said he was going to find you, and then he disappeared…”

“Shh. We can talk in a minute,” Konoha mumbled, words muffled by Komi’s shoulder. Semi fell silent, though he did shift a little to one side so he could keep one arm around Komi and put the other around Konoha. Komi wasn’t quite ready to ask exactly what was going on, so he stayed quiet.

“Now?” Semi asked after several minutes of silence. Konoha grumbled, but Semi apparently took that as a yes because he straightened, stepped back, and then sat beside Konoha. Semi lifted one of Komi’s hands from Konoha’s back, and looked him straight in the eye. “I want a chance to see if my feelings for Aki will go anywhere, see if the feelings he’s had for me for so long will hold up with my new self.” Komi blinked slowly, unsure where this was going. Had he returned only to be told Konoha and Semi wanted him to step aside after all. “However, Aki needs you. He’s not whole without you. You’re part of him, and you have been for a long time, in a way that was only a possibility for me before. And while you’ve been gone, I’ve had a lot of time to think.”

“Get to the point, Semi,” Komi growled.

“Eita,” Semi corrected. Komi blinked. “You called me Eita before Aki came and started to teach me how to control my demon powers. I want you to call me Eita. And...if you want me to, I’ll get out of your way. Aki needs you a lot more than he needs me, at least for now.”

“For now?” Komi repeated, struggling to process what Semi was saying. The younger demon nodded seriously.

“Aki might need you more, but I think he might need me too. But he’ll definitely be hurt if either of us leaves to make room for the other.” Semi took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Akinori loves us both. So why don’t we both try? And...I really admire you, Komi. And you’re really cute. I think, if we had a chance…” Komi’s eyes widened, understanding washing over him. Semi was suggesting they could both be with Konoha, but he was also saying that he wanted to get to know Komi too, and see if they could care for each other the same way they both cared for Konoha.

“Aki?” Komi asked, voice faint with shock.

“I don’t want to hurt or lose either of you,” Konoha said, refusing to lift his head from Komi’s shoulder. “So if you’re fine with it…” Komi studied Semi for a moment, since he already knew what Konoha’s expression would look like if he’d raised his head to look Komi in the eye. Semi met his gaze, hope and nervousness in his eyes. Komi let out a quiet laugh and used the hand Semi was still holding to pull him closer.

“Yeah. Let’s...let’s try it. The three of us,” Komi agreed. He smiled a little and brought his hand up to comb his fingers through Semi's hair as he added, "And if I'm supposed to call you Eita, you'd better call me Haruki."

* * *

 

Miya listened to Terushima dressing for the daily royal audience. When he tried to sit up, Terushima moved back to the bed and fit his hand over the layers of bruising on Miya’s throat, pressing him back so he lay flat against the mattress.

“You stay here today,” Terushima urged, leaning down to kiss Miya’s forehead. Miya held perfectly still, and Terushima smiled. “You look like you’re still not feeling very well, so just rest, Atsumu. You’ll be better soon, and then you can come with me again, okay?” Miya managed a low noise that he hoped sounded like agreement, and it must have succeeded because Terushima seemed to take it as such. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” Miya waited until Terushima removed his hand from his throat, then nodded. Terushima was gone a moment later, and Miya let his eyes fall closed.

He didn’t know how long it had been. His body was weak. He couldn’t move it the way he wanted. He was constantly lightheaded and dizzy and cold and he knew it was because Terushima was taking far too much blood every day when he fed, and only giving Miya a fraction of that amount in return. It was enough to keep him alive...for now.

Miya felt himself dozing off again, wondering how long it had been since he saw anyone besides Terushima, wondering how long it would be before he saw anyone else.

Who was he kidding? Terushima was just going to keep him here, in his bed, too weak to protest or leave, and he was never going to see anyone else again. No one would question Terushima. No one would come looking for him. No one would care enough.

As it did so often since he’d returned to Terushima, Miya’s mind drifted, and as it usually did, his mind latched onto his memories of Shirabu.

Shirabu, who was all glares and snark and toughness. Shirabu, who had kissed him so gently. Shirabu, who had started giving up his blood to find out more about Miya, according to Kuguri. Shirabu, who would do anything to protect the people he cared about.

Shirabu, who Miya had abandoned, left behind for a prince who was going to keep him confined to their shared bedroom until Miya just faded away.

Miya had never regretted anything as much as he regretted choosing Terushima over Shirabu, except maybe when he’d chosen Terushima in the first place, despite his brother’s disapproval.

His brother…

Miya was glad he wasn’t there to see this. And he was glad Shirabu wasn’t there to see it, either.

As his mind turned back to Shirabu, his imagination kicked in. He could almost smell Shirabu, almost hear him asking what had happened to him. Miya’s lips curled into an exhausted smile. Shirabu would be so worried if he could see Miya now. He might even give up his own blood to try to help him.

His imagination ran with that thought, fed him the sensation of his head being lifted and cradled in Shirabu’s lap, Shirabu’s scent surrounding him, Shirabu’s voice in his ears, Shirabu’s fingers in his hair and then Shirabu’s lips on his own. The sensation on his mouth faded, but his lips were parted as he wished his imagination would give him another of Shirabu’s achingly gentle kisses.

Instead, his imagination provided the overwhelmingly bittersweet, metallic flavor that he could only guess was what his subconscious thought Shirabu’s blood would taste like if they saw each other again. He could feel the warm, thick weight of the human’s blood in his mouth, so real and tantalizing that he swallowed.

Except he could actually feel the blood flow down his throat, feel the faint tingle of energy. Another gulp, and his body didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore. Miya lifted his hands, found a wrist pressed to his mouth, and he forced his eyes open. Yes, someone’s wrist was at his lips, bleeding into his mouth. Miya couldn’t think enough to question it. Instead, he latched onto the wound and drank like he was dying of thirst. And, now that he thought about it, maybe he had been.

Far too soon, the wrist moved away, and a cloth bandage was wrapped around the wound, instantly concealing the smell of the blood in a way a normal bandage shouldn’t have been able to do. Strange…

“Are you feeling any better?” Miya’s mind had really run away with him, because not only had it conjured up an entire feeding, but it was still using Shirabu’s voice. A soft touch on his cheek drew his attention. He looked up, and found Shirabu staring down at him. Miya tensed and tried to sit up, but a light hand on his shoulder - carefully avoiding the bruises still layered on his neck - kept him down. “Don’t move. I couldn’t give you nearly enough blood, but you and Kuguri would both kick my ass if I let you drain me too much.”

“Kenjirou,” Miya whispered. “What are you…?”

“It’s been weeks, Zolotse. I couldn’t take it anymore. And I’m glad I came when I did, because you look like you’ve been on the edge of starvation since you went back to Terushima,” Shirabu said grimly. His fingers shook as he ran them through Miya’s hair, and for a second he worried that Shirabu had let him have too much blood anyway, but then he saw the fury blazing in Shirabu’s eyes, and realized that no, Shirabu was just so angry that he was shaking. “How can he treat you like this? Why would he? You chose _him,_ damn it. You should be safe.” Something warm and wet fell on Miya’s lips. Absently, Miya swept his tongue out to collect the moisture, and a second later he realized it was a tear. Shirabu was in tears. Miya reached up, his own hand shaking - whether from distress, from the lack of blood even after feeding, from his own fear or anger or just exhaustion, he didn’t know - and his fingertips brushed Shirabu’s cheek. One of Shirabu’s hands left his hair and came up to clutch Miya’s hand, pressing it to his own cheek. Then he turned his head, pressed a kiss to the center of Miya’s palm. “I have to go. The audience isn’t supposed to be very long today. I can’t let Terushima catch me here. I’m so sorry, Zolotse. I’ll come back and feed you again, okay? I have to figure out what to do, but I won’t let Terushima do this to you.”

Miya started to protest. Shirabu shouldn’t put himself at risk by coming back. He shouldn’t care about Miya anymore. Miya had left him, had chosen Terushima. Shirabu should leave him to the fate he’d chosen. That was how it worked. Miya had made a choice, and now he belonged to Terushima forever. Shirabu slid out from beneath Miya’s head, turned back to kiss his forehead, his nose, his lips, and then he was gone, only the bit of renewed energy in his limbs and a faint hint of his scent lingering to convince Miya that Shirabu’s visit hadn’t just been another figment of his imagination.


	29. Retrieval

Miya lived for Shirabu’s visits. As Terushima drained his blood until he could hardly move, Miya reminded himself that eventually Shirabu would be back. As Terushima’s hands trailed possessively over his body, Miya told himself that when Shirabu returned, he’d replace those touches of ownership with soft, loving ones. 

Shirabu didn’t visit every day, or at least Miya didn’t think he did. But he came as often as he could, always when Terushima was guaranteed to be out. And he was always careful not to leave any blood where Terushima might smell it; the Third Prince’s nose wasn’t as sharp as Sakusa’s, but he’d notice strange blood on the bed. 

A wave of comfort washed over him as Shirabu’s scent reached him, and a moment later, gentle hands cupped his face. There was a tender kiss on his forehead, and then Shirabu’s voice. 

“Oh, Zolotse. I wish there was something I could do for you,” Shirabu whispered. “But even visiting you without permission could get us both in serious trouble.” Miya shook his head, tried to reach up to Shirabu’s hand. This was enough. Miya had chosen Terushima; he didn’t even deserve this much from Shirabu. He didn’t deserve this gentleness, this caring. “Hush, you.” Shirabu’s voice cut through Miya’s thoughts. Had he been saying something out loud? “You  _ do _ deserve to be cared for, and you deserve so much better than what Terushima’s doing.” Miya started to protest, only for Shirabu’s hands to leave his face. A moment later, there was a body pressing down on Miya’s, but it wasn’t the possessive, demanding weight of Terushima’s body. Instead, it was Shirabu, leaning over him to place his neck at Miya’s lips. “Drink, Zolotse. Please.” Miya made a little questioning noise; Shirabu had always fed him from his wrist before. Miya could smell Shirabu so much better like this, and he wanted to sink his fangs into the human’s skin, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop in time if he did. “I trust you. And remember that you’re the one who can hardly move here,” Shirabu reminded him. Miya sighed and gave in. 

The instant his fangs pierced Shirabu’s skin, a sense of comfort, safety,  _ home _ washed over him with the flavor of Shirabu’s blood, richer and sweeter than before. The bitterness that had matched the sweet when Shirabu first visited him had faded to a slight aftertaste, like lingering doubt or fear. Shirabu relaxed as Miya started to drink, and one of his hands came up, fingers curling in Miya’s hair. 

Shirabu’s scent was everywhere, blocking out the world. Shirabu’s touch was the only thing that grounded him, and Miya was perfectly content with that. 

If he could stay like that forever, full of Shirabu’s blood and scent and touch, he’d be happy. 

“What the fuck is going on here?”

That voice didn’t belong. It wasn’t Shirabu’s, it wasn’t Miya’s. It took a second to swim through the pleasant haze of Shirabu’s presence to recognize that voice. When he did, Miya instantly released Shirabu’s neck and flung his arms around the human’s body. He rolled, hauling Shirabu with him, until the human was on the other side of the bed, and Miya was crouched over him. 

“What-” Obviously Shirabu hadn’t been paying any more attention than Miya had, because he sounded absolutely bewildered. Then he peered toward the door and froze. “Oh, shit.” 

Terushima stood in the doorway, staring at them with a level of rage and murderous intent that Shirabu had never seen before. 

“Yuuji,” Miya whispered, tensing above Shirabu, ready for the prince to attack. 

“Human,” Terushima snarled. “You are trespassing.” The prince’s fists were clenched so hard his palms were starting to bleed, and his fangs were bared. Terushima was practically vibrating with fury. “Get out before I end up at war with Kyoomi over your death.” Shirabu hesitated, and Miya knew it was for his sake. Shirabu didn’t want to leave him alone with a furious Terushima. Miya slid off of Shirabu and crossed the room. 

“Yuuji, it’s not what it looks like,” Miya murmured, reaching for Terushima’s hand with one of his and putting his other hand on the prince’s hip, pulling him toward Miya and away from the door. Terushima studied him for a second, then lifted the hand not in Miya’s and clamped it around Miya’s throat. Miya choked as Terushima’s fingers dug into his neck, but he didn’t resist. “Yuuji,” he gasped. 

“Don’t you dare use my name when you have  _ his  _ blood on your mouth,  _ Atsumu,” _ Terushima spat, enough venom in his voice to make Miya flinch. “Leave,” Terushima added, glaring at Shirabu, who was still on the bed, frozen in horror. Shirabu glanced at Miya, who tried to give him a reassuring look. Terushima’s grip tightened, his nails digging into Miya’s neck until they drew blood. Miya let out a sound somewhere between a hiss and a whimper. 

Shirabu was off the bed and halfway across the room in an instant, only stopping himself from attacking the prince because he caught Miya’s gaze again and Miya held the look for a moment, then glanced at the door.

Shirabu nodded, then sprinted past Terushima, out the door. Miya relaxed in Terushima’s grip. Shirabu was gone. He was safe. Nothing else that happened mattered, as long as Shirabu was safe. 

“What are you smiling about, you traitorous whore?” Terushima snarled, shoving Miya against the wall and bringing his knee up to slam into Miya’s stomach. Miya choked, couldn’t get any air because of the grip still on his throat. His lips formed Terushima’s name, but with nothing in his lungs, he couldn’t speak. “I should throw you aside and let the lower nobles do what they want with you.” Miya trembled, partly from lack of air and partly because of the threat. “But then they’d think I can’t keep control of my own lover, and I can’t have that. So I’ll just punish you myself.” 

Terushima threw Miya to the floor, and Miya tried to catch himself, but his arms weren’t strong enough - Shirabu’s feedings every few days simply weren’t enough to restore his strength with how much blood Terushima was taking - and Terushima delivered a vicious kick to his ribs a second later, so he wouldn’t have been able to keep his balance anyway. Miya flopped onto his side and started to curl up, his lungs heaving with the effort of breathing. Another kick to the same part of his ribcage, and something in his body gave way with a sickening crack. Miya’s lips parted in a desperate scream that no one heard because he still didn’t have the breath to actually make a sound. A third kick, and Miya was sent rolling onto his back. 

Terushima stepped over him, one foot on either side of Miya’s body, then dropped, his weight coming down on Miya’s stomach hard enough to make him retch and choke again. Miya wheezed, trying desperately to breath, his limbs twitching weakly. Terushima seized his jaw, wrenched Miya’s head so he was staring up at the prince with watery, agonized eyes. Miya whined and tried unsuccessfully to pull away, so Terushima shifted his grip and raked his nails down Miya’s cheek, leaving bloody furrows on his skin. 

“You’re mine, Atsumu,” Terushima hissed, breaking his silence as he dragged his nails down Miya’s neck, too. Miya cried out, having finally caught his breath.  “You don’t get to look at or touch or care about anyone else. I own you, Atsumu. Your life is  _ mine, _ and if you cross me again I will take it away from you.” Miya stared up at him, his cheek and neck swelling and bleeding, every breath agony from his broken rib. He considered telling Terushima he didn’t want to belong to him anymore, but he knew that if he did that, he probably wouldn’t survive. 

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, though. Shirabu would stop putting himself in danger to protect Miya if he was dead. 

“I don’t belong to you anymore,” Miya wheezed. “You can’t keep me here if I don’t want to be part of your faction anymore.”

“Like hell. I’ll see you dead before I let you walk away,” Terushima snarled, his fingers closing around Miya’s throat again. Miya choked and started to reach for Terushima’s hands, only for 

“Yuuji. Get off of him right now.” Miya’s head swam with confusion. That sounded like...Sakusa. 

“You’re trespassing, Kyoomi,” Terushima growled. “Atsumu is mine; I have the right to-”

“You are allowed to discipline your faction members, yes. But I believe Miya just said he doesn’t want to be your faction member anymore. So you’ll release him  _ this instant _ or I’ll report you to Kiyoko,” Sakusa snapped. Terushima stared down at Miya for a long moment. Then he snarled and stood, apparently not caring that he accidentally stomped on Miya’s stomach again in the process. Or maybe he did it on purpose. Miya wouldn’t put anything past Terushima at this point. As soon as Terushima was far enough from Miya, someone was kneeling beside him and pushing their bleeding wrist to his lips. Miya drank instinctively, barely noticing who was feeding him until the blood hit his tongue. 

A hot burst of fury, so strong it made Miya’s eyes water, dominated the flavor at first, but it faded into a tooth-achingly sweet, shimmering taste that Miya only knew how to describe as love. The underlying flavors were complicated, a swirl of bitterness and metal and more anger and regret and relief and Miya couldn’t keep track of any more emotions in the blood that filled his mouth and trickled down his throat, because the smell of safety and home and  _ Shirabu _ was back, and there were tender fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp, flitting over his torn skin fretfully. 

“That should be enough to stabilize him for a bit.” Was that...Yahaba? Why was he there? Why were any of them in Terushima’s room? “Kentarou, let’s get him back.” Miya’s eyes weren’t staying open, and he didn’t know what was going to happen. Someone lifted him, and he screamed, his throat raw from being choked but he didn’t care because being lifted with a broken rib was excruciating and he couldn’t stop himself. Then Shirabu’s hands were on him again, rubbing his arm soothingly, stroking his hair. There was a kiss on his cheek, and then he was being carried as carefully as possible out of the room. The movement jostled him just a little too much, but instead of screaming again at the renewed jolt of agony, Miya’s mind decided that was a good time to shut down for a bit, and his vision went black. 


	30. Ruling

 

“Shirabu, you can’t just sit there forever,” Yahaba sighed. Shirabu ignored him and looked down at his hand, studying the way his shaking fingers intertwined with Miya’s limp ones. He didn’t need to stay there forever. Just until Miya woke up. 

“Kenjirou…” Kuguri rested a hand on Shirabu’s arm, and when Shirabu didn’t shake him off, he added, “Miya won’t wake up any faster because you’re here.” 

“You don’t know that,” Shirabu muttered. “Maybe if I give him more blood?” He reached for his dagger, then at his wrist, where there was already a series of slowly healing cuts from him feeding Miya as often as Yahaba and Kuguri let him. Kuguri leaned forward, reached around and put his hand over Shirabu’s wrist. 

“You can’t lose any more, Kenjirou,” Kuguri said softly. “You’ve given him too much already, and Yahaba said he didn’t need any more last time you fed him.” Shirabu’s expression twisted, but before he could reply, the door opened and Ushijima leaned into the room. 

“Shirabu, Sakusa asked me to bring you to him,” Ushijima said, voice soft and solemn. Shirabu frowned, shook his head. 

“If Sakusa needs something he can come here,” Shirabu replied, glancing at Miya’s slack, unconscious features. “I’m not leaving.” 

“Your testimony is requested by the royals,” Ushijima explained seriously. “Sakusa thought I would be the best one to ask you.” Shirabu’s jaw clenched, and Ushijima continued, “Shirabu, you cannot do anything more for Miya by staying beside him right now. However, by confirming to Princess Shimizu what you saw and why you asked Sakusa to come with you to Terushima’s wing, you can ensure that Terushima will never be able to hurt Miya again.” That got Shirabu’s interest. His eyes flashed and his fingers tightened around Miya’s hand. 

“What do you mean?”

“Miya should have told you during all of your time together. A royal abusing a faction member is difficult to prove, but since you witnessed it, and brought Sakusa, so Shimizu will handle him now,” Ushijima explained. “But you have to come with and tell her yourself. Convince her that Terushima should not be allowed to try to contact or reclaim Miya, and he will be protected. Sakusa or one of the other royals will take him into their faction if he wants.” Shirabu was quiet for a minute. Then he turned to Yahaba. 

“As soon as he wakes up, I want to know about it,” Shirabu told him. 

“Of course you do. Now go. You’ll probably be back before he wakes up anyway,” Yahaba replied. Shirabu still hesitated, his gaze falling to Miya’s face. 

“If he wakes up while you are gone, he will understand,” Ushijima assured him. Shirabu tensed; he hadn’t realized he was that obvious. But then his shoulders slumped and he nodded. 

“All right. Lead the way,” he said. Ushijima backed out of the room, and Shirabu leaned down to kiss Miya’s forehead before following Ushijima out. Kuguri was on his heels, and Shirabu didn’t bother trying to get him to stay and watch over Miya. If Shirabu was going to meet with the royals, there was no way Kuguri was going to let him go alone.

* * *

 

Shirabu fidgeted. Normally he would have loved to watch the proceedings - he’d told Shimizu everything he knew about how Terushima treated Miya, and Shimizu, Sakusa, Misaki, and Shirofuku had all immediately agreed that Terushima would not be allowed to contact Miya, and that Miya would remain with Sakusa’s faction until he was recovered enough to decide what he wanted to do now that he was free of Terushima - but he didn’t care to actually watch them agree that yes Terushima was terrible and he shouldn’t be allowed near Miya. Shirabu wanted to get back to him, to be there when he woke up. 

“Kiyoko. This meeting had better be about that damned human and Kyoomi trespassing and kidnapping Atsumu,” Terushima snarled as he stalked into the room. Shirabu tensed; he hadn’t realized they’d be telling Terushima their decision with Shirabu still in the room. 

“In a way, yes,” Shimizu replied. “But you should take a moment and compose yourself, Yuuji. I’m afraid I won’t be ruling in your favor.” Shirabu considered pointing out that this was a really bad way to handle the announcement. Terushima was obviously furious and unstable - Miya’s injuries were proof of that - and Shirabu thought maybe having Yaku or someone on hand to keep Terushima in check if necessary would really be a better plan. 

Terushima didn’t explode, though. He went silent and still. 

“Excuse me?”

“Miya Atsumu does not belong to you anymore,” Shimizu said, staring Terushima down without flinching. “He will remain in Kyoomi’s custody until he is recovered from the state you put him in. Even if he still wanted to be your faction member, Yuuji, what you’ve done is out of line. I cannot allow you to have any more contact with Miya.” Terushima’s gaze darted from Shimizu’s face, to Sakusa’s, then Misaki’s, then Shirofuku’s. Finally, his attention landed on Shirabu. 

“You just couldn’t be satisfied with your little snake, could you?” Terushima hissed, his eyes narrowing and his fingers clenching into fists. “You just had to have my Atsumu, too. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t gone and taken him from me!” Shimizu started to speak - Sakusa pulled his mask down to more clearly scowl disapprovingly at Terushima - Shirofuku huffed indignantly - Misaki put her hands on her hips like she was about to lecture him - Terushima lunged - Shirabu went down. 

Terushima’s body hit him before anyone even realized the prince had moved. Nails raked across Shirabu’s face - his forehead to his cheekbones to his jaw - and he hit the ground hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs. Then there were fangs in his throat and Shirabu couldn’t breath, couldn’t remember the combat skills Miya had taught him because he was still processing the fact that Terushima could just...move like that. So fast that none of them had seen him, apparently on a whim. 

Shirabu’s limbs didn’t react when he tried to push the prince off of him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t see, why couldn’t he see? Oh, his mind was swimming and his vision was going dark. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because...oh. There was the vampire on him, and there was the fact that he’d given as much blood as he could afford to lose to Miya. That...wasn’t good. 

His world was going black, and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section of the story is almost finished! Maybe one or two more chapters and an epilogue, and then the rest of the series will take place in the form of Priceless, the collection of side stories I've already started posting. Feel free to let me know which characters/pairings you want to see!


	31. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is devoted to my new friends who helped me with coming up with scents for this chapter!~

Miya woke up with significantly less pain than he had expected. The last thing he remembered was being carried, and his body and mind refusing to cope with how excruciating every little jostle was. So to wake up with a faint ache in his ribs that sharpened slightly if he inhaled too deeply and a rough soreness to his throat when he tried to make a sound, well, that was much better than expected. 

Especially considering that as his memory crept back, he was pretty sure he remembered deliberately provoking Terushima in hopes of the prince just ending his life so Shirabu would be safe. 

Shirabu. 

Miya forced himself upright and scanned the room. Where was Shirabu? Miya remembered Shirabu’s voice, his scent, the taste of his blood before everything went black. Had Terushima hurt him? 

“Miya.” Miya whirled toward the sound of his name, froze when he realized who had spoken. Why was Kyoutani there? More specifically, why was Kyoutani there  _ without Yahaba? _ “It’s about damn time you’re awake.” Miya started to snap that he hadn’t exactly stayed unconscious so long on purpose, but something in Kyoutani’s scowl stopped him. Kyoutani’s eyes were darting toward the door, like he couldn’t wait to leave, which reminded Miya that Yahaba wasn’t there. 

“Where?” Miya croaked, the pain in his throat flaring. He winced and tried to clarify, but Kyoutani seemed to understand. 

“Shigeru’s with Sakusa and the others, trying to save Shirabu.” 

Miya’s blood went cold.

* * *

 

Shirabu’s body felt off when he blinked his eyes open. Something about the way his chest moved when he breathed felt different, heavier, but maybe that was just the fact that his nose felt like it was clogged with strange and too-powerful scents. He stirred, tried to sit up, but his body moved faster than he expected. Not much, but enough that he was caught off guard and probably looked ridiculous as he bolted upright, then immediately fell over. 

Something pinched his lip, and he winced. A few drops of blood fell on his tongue, and he paused. It didn’t taste metallic. It almost tasted...like citrus?

“Kenjirou,” a familiar voice murmured. Shirabu looked up, looked past the source of the sound and almost made himself dizzy trying to pinpoint it. There was a hand on his shoulder, another on his cheek, and Shirabu was steadied, his face turned toward the person who’d said his name. A wave of sharp scent - memory stirred, a market from his childhood, a stall next to the fruit stand that was his target, burning wood, spice...the words swam to the surface, burning sandalwood and cinnamon - washed over him. Shirabu blinked, and the person’s face came into focus. 

“Drakonchik,” Shirabu rasped. Kuguri smiled and stroked his thumb over Shirabu’s cheekbone. 

“That’s right. How do you feel?” Kuguri asked. Shirabu blinked, licked his lips, and his tongue caught on something curved and sharp in line with his teeth. Shirabu blinked again, frowned, and ran his tongue over the sharp thing again. No, two sharp things. Shirabu reached up, barely recognizing the tension in Kuguri’s face as he ran his fingertip over the sharp things in his mouth. 

Teeth, or they were supposed to be, but they were too long and curved, too sharp to be human teeth. 

Because they weren’t human teeth. 

They were fangs. 

Shirabu swayed, and Kuguri steadied him, pulled him closer. Shirabu instinctively hid his face in Kuguri’s neck, but there Kuguri’s scent mingled with something that almost smelled like citrus. Shirabu’s whole body went ridged. 

“The smells are overwhelming, aren’t they?” That wasn’t Kuguri’s voice. Shirabu made a soft noise, unable to actually figure out which words to use. “That’s my fault. My blood turned you, so you’re smelling things the way I do. It should fade soon enough.” That voice, talking about smells...Sakusa. Shirabu lifted his head, and a whiff of a new mingled scent overwhelmed him - a clear, cool breeze mingled with the warm smell of metal and wood and the distinctive acrid odor of gunpowder - Shirabu’s head swam and he was pretty sure he let out a whimper. 

“Shirabu, focus. Take aim.” Oh, that voice rumbled in Shirabu’s bones. That voice was safety for a young boy all alone, strength for a stranger who had no one to depend on. That voice had told him something he should do…  _ Take aim. _

Shirabu closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, let the scents wash over him and pass him by. He needed to focus, to not let his senses overwhelm him. 

“Good. Very good, Shirabu.” That voice rarely praised him, and that confused Shirabu. Ushijima hardly praised anyone. Certainly not for executing a task he’d been trained to do years before, when he’d first been taken in by Ushijima’s band of hunters. Unless there was something that would make the task harder. 

The scents were much stronger than anything Shirabu had ever smelled. And his body did feel...wrong. Too responsive to his thoughts, too responsive to what was going on around him. 

Too sharp.

Like his teeth. 

His fangs. 

Shirabu’s eyes flew wide open, and he let out a cry as he whirled, searching for Ushijima, for answers. 

_ “My blood turned you,” _ Sakusa had said. Shirabu’s gaze focused on Ushijima, standing beside Sakusa, both of them watching him. 

“I’m...I’m a…” Shirabu whispered. He whirled back to Kuguri and nearly fell over. “I can’t be...won’t…” Back to Ushijima, confusion and disbelief. “I thought…”

“The royals made an exception for you, Shirabu.” A new voice, a new dizzying scent, this time an indescribable odor that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Shirabu bit his lip, remembered to focus, to  _ take aim. _ Yahaba stood in the doorway, watching him worriedly. “Terushima attacked you, and the others all agreed to change you to save your life. There was nothing else we could do - and believe me, I tried.” Shirabu wasn’t sure what to think. 

He was…

He was a vampire. 

While he no longer thought of vampires as monsters, the way he had growing up and training with Ushijima, he also had never considered himself as anything besides completely human. 

Was this how Iwaizumi felt when he found out there was a hint of werewolf blood in his veins? 

But Iwaizumi was still, for all intents and purposes, human. 

Shirabu wasn’t. 

Not anymore. 


	32. Status

Shirabu had asked to be left alone to process the fact that he  _ wasn’t human anymore, _ but he hadn’t actualy expected any of them to leave him alone. Even Kuguri had left. 

It was a relief, at first; the smells that had been clogging his nose and making his head ache faded, and that was nice. But after a while, it was just...lonely. He hadn’t actually been alone very much since he’d arrived at the palace. He’d constantly been with  _ someone,  _ even if that someone had kidnapped him or been trying to make a deal so they could suck his blood. 

He hadn’t realized just how much time to think he would have when he was alone. 

Was Miya okay? Had he woken up yet?

What had happened to Terushima? No one had mentioned him since Shirabu woke up. 

Why had he even woken up in the first place? Why had the royals decided to make an exception and turn him into a vampire? And what was Shirabu supposed to even do as a vampire now? He wasn’t part of any family, he hadn’t been assigned any rank. Had he? 

And if he had no rank, and since he wasn’t human...would he have to swear loyalty to one of the royals? Sakusa’s blood had turned him, right? Did that mean he belonged to Sakusa?

What would Miya think of that? Would Shirabu even get to see him? And what about Kuguri? Since Shirabu obviously couldn’t be one of Sakusa’s humans anymore, and if Shirabu didn’t have any rank, would he be able to keep Kuguri near him? Or would Kuguri be forced back into the role of the minor noble anyone could use for their schemes?

Shirabu didn’t notice when the questions circling in his mind faded and he fell asleep again. 

He hadn’t even realized he was still so tired. When Shirabu woke up again though, he wasn’t alone. Someone was kneeling beside his bed, head bent, both hands holding one of Shirabu’s. The room was full of a soft, warm scent, like melted chocolate and baking bread, like the bakery Shirabu had stared into as a child. That smell was everything he’d dreamed of before he left his home city and ended up training under Ushijima to become a vampire hunter. It was safety and home and hope. 

Shirabu blinked at the person kneeling beside his bed, and decided there was something very, very wrong about the image. Because he knew exactly who it was, and while he was elated to see them - he barely stopped himself from crying out and throwing himself into his visitor’s arms when he recognized him - he  _ did not _ like to see Miya Atsumu on his knees for any reason. 

“Zolotse,” Shirabu rasped. He coughed; he hadn’t realized how dry his throat was until he tried to talk. He’d have to see about getting something to...oh. Well, he’d have to ask who he was supposed to drink from, he realized. 

“Your highness,” Miya replied, lifting his head as his fingers shook and clasped more tightly around Shirabu’s hand. “You sound thirsty. Would you like some of my blood?” Shirabu made a face; of course he didn’t want Miya’s blood, why would he - oh. Right. He was a vampire now. He really had to remember that… Wait. 

“What did you just call me?” Shirabu hissed, staving off another cough through sheer force of will. Miya blinked at him, then tilted his head. 

“If you would prefer another form of address-”

“Damn right I would  _ prefer another form of address,” _ Shirabu snapped, keeping his voice as close to a whisper as he could in hopes of not making his poor dry throat hurt any more. “Why the fuck would you call me that?” 

“Because you are a prince, and I am an unaligned minor noble since you and Prince Sakusa took me away from former prince Terushima.” Miya’s voice was steady, but soft, like he wasn’t sure why he had to explain this. Shirabu wasn’t sure what to demand an explanation for first: the claim that he was a prince, the thought of Miya being an unaligned minor noble which would imply he was in a similar position to Kuguri, or the fact that he’d called Terushima a former prince instead of Yuuji. Miya studied his expression, and must have finally realized that Shirabu had no idea  _ what the actual fuck was going on, _ because he got to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed. “Your highness...did they not tell you anything?” Shirabu flinched. He hated that formality. He hated the reservation in Miya’s voice, his posture, everything. He  _ hated it. _

“All they told me was that Sakusa’s blood was used to turn me into a vampire to save me because apparently the royals-” Shirabu broke off, coughing and wincing as his raw throat protested so many words passing through it. Miya brought his own wrist up to his mouth, bit down, and then offered his bleeding wrist to Shirabu. 

“Drink, your highness,” Miya urged. Shirabu glared at him - he didn’t care what Miya thought was going on, Shirabu wasn’t a prince, and even if he was, he didn’t want Miya to call him that - but gingerly took Miya’s wrist and brought his mouth to the pair of puncture wounds in the skin. Miya’s blood smelled like citrus, and Shirabu hesitated, questioning whether he was actually going to do this, but then Miya shifted, lifted his arm, and his skin brushed Shirabu’s lips. Shirabu jerked back for a second, licked his lips automatically because he felt moisture there. 

The taste was…

Well. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced. 

The sharp citrus smell faded, overwhelmed by the actual flavor of Miya’s blood, sweet and rich and so...Shirabu didn’t quite have words. Miya’s blood tasted like happiness and fear and relief and hope and…

Shirabu pulled Miya’s wrist away from his mouth and took a deep breath, but that only filled him with the sense of warmth and safety Miya’s scent gave him. 

“Explain,” Shirabu said instead of thinking about what all he had tasted in Miya’s blood. Miya let his arm fall as he considered where to begin. 

“Since Sakusa’s blood turned you, you would rank one step below him, or the same as Princess Misaki.” Shirabu frowned; wasn’t Misaki the Fourth, two steps below Sakusa? “However, to avoid a power struggle over the...vacancy of the Third throne, the other royals agreed that making you Fifth would be a good compromise between accepting you as a royal and killing you for being a turned vampire.” Shirabu had  _ so  _ many questions about that logic, but they could wait, because he didn’t want to be  _ any  _ royal. Not even the Fifth, and  _ certainly _ not the Third. “So Misaki is now Third Princess, and Shirofuku is Fourth.” 

“So...Terushima isn’t…” Miya’s expression hardened. 

“Terushima is not only no longer the Third Prince, he is scheduled to go on trial and will probably be executed for defying First Princess Shimizu and basically declaring war on Second Prince Sakusa by attacking you.” 

“Kenjirou!” Shirabu’s head came up just in time to be knocked sideways. He yelped as he hit the mattress, sprawled on his side and pinned in place by a very familiar vampire, one who smelled of burning sandalwood and cinnamon. “Heard you and Miya talking,” Kuguri explained, hiding his face in Shirabu’s neck. “You seem better.” Kuguri’s voice was small, more vulnerable than Shirabu was used to when he said that. “You were so overwhelmed before…”

“That’s sweet that you were worried but could you maybe get off of me?” Miya snapped. Shirabu craned his neck to look over Kuguri’s shoulder, down the lanky vampire’s body, and yes, sure enough, most of Kuguri’s weight appeared to be rested squarely on Miya, who had also been knocked over and pinned by Kuguri’s assault. Kuguri appeared to consider for a moment, then shrugged. 

“Only if his highness wants me to,” Kuguri replied. Shirabu laughed despite the urge to snap at Kuguri to not call him that. Kuguri paused, then shifted off Miya and Shirabu and sat beside Shirabu instead. Or rather, he knelt beside Shirabu on the bed and stared down at him solemnly. “Fifth Prince Shirabu Kenjirou, I would like to be a member of your faction, if you’ll have me.” Shirabu stared at him for a long moment, processing that. 

Kuguri wouldn’t lie to him, wouldn’t get mixed up or go along with a joke - not that Miya would either, but still - so that meant…

That meant Shirabu was actually a vampire prince now. Shirabu shot a worried glance at Miya. 

“Is there some formal response I’m supposed to make?” Shirabu hissed. Miya stared at him. 

“I think he just wants a simple yes or no, your highness,” Miya replied. Shirabu turned back to Kuguri. 

“Yes you can be part of the faction I apparently have now, but only if you don’t call me highness - and you stop it too, Zolotse!” Shirabu added, shooting a glare at Miya, who blinked in surprise. 

“I apologize, I didn’t mean-”

“Just stop. I don’t care if you’re unaligned, I don’t care if I’m supposed to be a prince, I don’t give a single flying fuck about any of that and you know it. I don’t want anything to change,” Shirabu snapped. “My feelings for you haven’t changed, Zolotse.” There was a moment of silence, and then something seemed to give way in Miya’s mask of formality. He sat up, scooted closer, and then leaned forward until his nose was pressed against the tender skin of Shirabu’s throat. Kuguri shifted back, giving them space, but they didn’t really need it because a moment later Miya had wrapped himself around Shirabu so closely that they didn’t really take up much space. 

“I woke up and you were gone,” Miya whispered, his shoulders tense as he fought to keep them from shaking. “And Kyoutani was there and he said…” Miya trailed off, and Shirabu pulled him closer, holding him just as tightly as Miya was clinging to him. “When I heard you’d been turned I was so relieved, and then Sakusa said you were going to be a prince. And I was so afraid that you’d…” 

“That I’d be different?” Shirabu guessed. Miya’s breath caught in his throat, and he pressed his lips together to stifle a broken little noise as he nodded reluctantly. Shirabu turned his head, pressed a kiss to Miya’s forehead. “I feel different. My body feels like a stranger’s. But I’m still the same. I think. I know my feelings haven’t changed, anyway.” Shirabu hesitated, then lifted one hand from Miya’s back and reached toward Kuguri, who scooted closer and leaned in until Shirabu could cup his cheek with his outstretched hand. “I figured out how to handle life here once because you two were here to help me. If you’re both with me, I think I can figure out how to handle it again.” 

“I’m with you,” Kuguri promised, nuzzling Shirabu’s palm like an overgrown cat. 

“I thought that was obvious,” Miya mumbled. “Kenjirou.” Shirabu felt himself relax for the first time since he’d woken up as a vampire. “Of course I’m with you.” Quieter, like a revelation just dawning on him, Miya whispered, “Of course I am. I love you.” 


	33. Broken Heart

The palace was bustling, preparing for Terushima’s trial - supposedly Shimizu had locked him away until she formally announced his fate - and Shriabu’s coronation, and the return of a noble who had been absent for a long time only added to the chaos. 

Lord Suna Rintarou swept into the palace with his usual bored expression, and the whispers started immediately. He was alone; did that mean he was available? Would he be looking for a new companion? He had enough rank and influence despite his long absence that his request to go to his rooms and present himself to the royals after he had rested wasn’t questioned - not to his face, anyway. 

Osamu watched the chaos from a distance, knowing the answers to all the questions he heard whispered in halls. 

No, Suna wasn’t available. No, his timing wasn’t a coincidence. And yes, there was a very good reason Suna was retreating to his rooms rather than face the nobles and royals immediately. 

It was all to give Osamu this chance. A chance to make things right. 

Osamu made his way to the depths of the palace, where he was fairly sure Terushima would be kept. This area of the palace wasn’t usually used to house prisoners, but that was the point. No one remembered this place, except Osamu, because he and his brother had found the hidden corridor by accident as children and had played for hours in the dusty, forgotten cells and hallway. 

His brother. 

Osamu wished he’d been able to see him before this. Osamu didn’t like that the new prince had apparently taken Terushima’s throne and Terushima’s lover in one fell swoop, and after what he’d heard about his brother’s condition…

Well. 

Terushima was going to answer for what he’d done to Atsumu, and Osamu wasn’t going to risk Terushima’s position as former royalty being enough to free him. 

“We wondered if you’d come.” Osamu didn’t recognize that voice, but he recognized the cloak the small figure that stepped into his path was wearing. The trim, a small embroidered pattern of crossed swords alternating with shields told him the small vampire was part of the palace guard, and the clasp was shaped like a cat’s claw. This was one of Yaku’s new seekers, then. Which meant the other one was probably behind him. 

“So the Palace Commander told you to expect me,” Osamu said, keeping his posture casual and nonthreatening. “I’m flattered. But I need to see him.” 

“The Commander didn’t instruct us to keep anyone out,” the little vampire told him. 

“We’re just here to keep him in,” added a second voice, behind Osamu, as he’d expected. Osamu smiled grimly and glanced over his shoulder. 

“I understand. Which one?” Osamu asked. The small vampire stepped aside, gestured to one of the cells. “It’s not locked?”

“No. Despite Terushima’s occasional impulsive speed and aggression, even he knows better than to try escaping us both,” the seeker behind Osamu said. Osamu nodded thoughtfully, then moved toward the cell. He took a slow breath, making his posture less confident, less like himself, and more like how he remembered Atsumu acting around Terushima. 

When he stepped into the cell, Terushima was standing in the middle of the room, watching him. 

“Atsumu?” Terushima asked, surprise tinting his voice. Osamu ducked his head. He could practically  _ feel  _ Terushima’s smirk, and he had to keep his urge to claw that smirk off his face under control. “I suppose there  _ is _ an inkling of loyalty in you after all.” Osamu couldn’t stop himself from tensing, but Terushima seemed to take it as a flinch. “Still, a lowly little whore like you should know your place,” the former prince spat. Osamu was frozen for a moment, trying to guess what Atsumu would do. Then he sank to his knees. Smugness radiated from Terushima, and Osamu had to bite the inside of his cheek to focus on not wiping every bit of that attitude out of existence. “How dare you want someone else?” Terushima advanced, every inch of his posture full of the promise of violence. “Did you forget that without me you’re  _ nothing? _ If I hadn’t taken you into my bed, you’d be some lowly noble no one would look twice at, just like your worthless brother. No, you’d be worse, because even your twin saw how useless you were and left you behind. He gave himself to a higher noble and stayed with him. You should have followed his example better. Now he’s off safe in the bed of his lord, probably forgot all about you, and you’re here,” Terushima continued, coming to a stop in front of Osamu, who was shaking with fury and regret. He never should have left Atsumu with this monster, even if he’d had a good reason. He should have taken the consequences and killed Tershima a long, long time ago. He should never have abandoned Atsumu to this monster, should never have become something Terushima or anyone else could use to hurt Atsumu. “You’re here, on your knees, where I should have kept you the whole time.” Terushima’s fingers tangled in Osamu’s hair without warning, wrenching his head back. Terushima leaned over him, fangs bared, probably intending to sink them into his throat just because he thought he could, because he thought it was Atsumu kneeling there. 

Instead, Osamu met his gaze, fury and challenge and murderous intent written in every inch of his being. Terushima froze in place, staring. 

“Surprise, asshole,” Osamu sneered, flicking his wrist so his concealed knife slid into his hand. With one practiced thrust, full of all of his hatred for this person who had used and abused his brother for so long, Osamu shoved the blade up into Terushima’s gut, and when the prince stumbled back with a cry, Osamu shifted his grip, rose to his feet, and followed. He lashed out again, plunged the knife into Terushima’s chest, just under his collarbone - Osamu remembered too many possessive bruises on his brother’s skin in the same place, so he twisted the knife with a snarl - and then again lower, sliding the blade between his ribs. Terushima’s scream was cut off, fading into a gurgle as blood poured into his lungs. Terushima fell, and Osamu let the motion full him off of Osamu’s blade. Osamu eyed his blood knife, grimaced, and crouched beside the fallen and gasping former prince. “Atsumu gave every scrap of his soul to you for  _ years _ and you did nothing but hurt him. You tore his heart to pieces every time you brought someone else to your bed when he was supposed to be the one you loved, just like you did to Yahaba before him. It’s time someone tore  _ your _ heart up a little bit.” Osamu drove his blade between Terushima’s ribs again, this time straight into his heart, and twisted the blade, angling the hilt to cause as much damage as possible. Terushima twitched once, let out one more pitiful little gurgling noise, and then went still. Osamu nodded to himself and pulled his knife out, then wiped it on Terushima’s pants, since the former prince’s shirt was already covered in blood. Osamu eyed his weapon, nodded in satisfaction at the clean blade, and then slid it back into its hidden sheathe. Osamu stood, nudged Terushima’s head with his boot, but got no response. “I hope you go to hell, you abusive fuck,” Osamu muttered as he turned away and left the cell. Both seekers - they looked so much alike that for a second he wasn’t sure which one had been in his way and which had been behind him before - were waiting in the hallway. 

“Report me to the Palace Commander if you want. He deserved it,” Osamu said, holding his hands up to show he wasn’t going to attack. 

“As far as we’re concerned,” one of the seekers began. 

“Terushima did that to himself, somehow,” the other one continued. 

“It’s a miracle or something,” the first one concluded. “You’re free to go.” Osamu’s lips curved upwards, and he made his way down the hall. It was time to return to Suna and face the royals with him. Then Osamu would have to face his brother and see what kind of person this new prince who’d apparently claimed Atsumu as part of his faction already really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's basically the end of the stuff I want to include in The Value of Devotion, but I have plenty of loose ends to tie up and side plots to cover in Priceless, so stay tuned!


End file.
